'•>.'         '         '•'/ 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 


UWf.  °*  CAUF'  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


BOBBIE 

GENERAL    MANAGER 

A    NOVEL 

BY 

OLIVE  HIGGINS  PROUTY 


GROSSET   &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  :  :  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved  Including  that  of  translation  into  fo 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian. 


March,  1913 


2132117 


Bobbie,    General   Manager 


CHAPTER  I 

T  AM  a  junior  in  the  H.C.H.S.,  which  stands  for 
*•  Hilton  Classical  High  School,  and  am  sixteen 
years  old.  I  live  in  a  big  brown  house  at  number  240 
Main  Street,  and  my  father  is  a  state  senator  in  Bos 
ton.  I  am  a  member  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church,  which  I  joined  when  I  was  thirteen,  and  am 
captain  of  the  basket-ball  team  at  the  high  school.  I 
have  travelled  as  far  east  as  Revere  Beach,  as  far 
west  as  the  Hoosac  Tunnel,  on  my  way  to  Aunt  Ella's 
funeral  in  Adams,  and  as  far  south  as  New  London, 
Connecticut,  where  I  watched  my  oldest  brother  Tom 
row  in  a  perfectly  stunning  eight-oared  boat-race  on 
the  Thames.  I  haven't  been  north  at  all.  I  have  had 
six  diseases,  including  scarlet  fever  and  typhoid,  with 
which  I  almost  died  last  year,  and  as  a  result  of  which 
am  now  wearing  my  hair  as  short  as  a  child  with  a 
Dutch-cut. 

I  am  not  pretty,  nor  a  bit  popular  with  the  boys.  I 
can't  play  the  piano,  and  I  never  went  to  dancing-school 
in  my  life.  Most  of  my  clothes  are  as  ugly  as  mud,  for 
I  haven't  any  mother ;  and  my  hair  has  always  been  as 
straight  as  a  stick.  They  say  that  the  kink  that  has 
appeared  in  it  since  the  typhoid  won't  last  but  a  little 
while,  so  it  isn't  much  comfort.  In  fact,  the  only  real 
consolation  that  I  have  is  a  secret  conviction  which  I 
keep  well  concealed  in  the  innermost  compartment  of 


2          BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

my  heart.  No  one  knows  of  its  existence  except  my 
self,  and  I  wouldn't  be  the  one  to  tell  of  it  for  any 
thing  in  the  world.  It  is  on  account  of  it,  however, 
that  I  am  writing  the  experiences  of  my  early  life.  I 
often  think  how  valuable  it  would  have  been  if  Wil 
liam  Shakespeare  had  told  us  about  his  school-days 
or  Julius  Caesar  had  described  his  family  and  what 
they  used  to  do  when  he  was  a  boy  of  fifteen.  Of 
course  I  may  not  be  a  genius ;  but  facts  point  that  way. 
I  hate  mathematics,  my  imagination  is  vivid,  my  life 
is  difficult  and  full  of  obstacles,  and  my  handwriting 
illegible.  My  Themes  are  generally  read  out  loud  in 
English,  and  my  quarterly  deportment  mark  is  fright 
fully  low.  Moreover,  if  I  am  not  a  genius  I  shall  be 
awfully  disappointed.  Why,  I  think  I  should  rather 
be  a  genius  than  to  go  to  a  College  Prom.  It  makes 
everything  so  bearable,  from  a  flunk  in  geometry,  to 
not  being  invited  to  Bessie  Jaynes'  birthday-party  last 
week. 

My  life  has  not  been  an  easy  one.  Ever  since  I 
can  remember  I  have  been  the  mother  of  five  children 
—  two  of  them  older  and  three  younger  than  myself. 
They  all  call  me  Bobbie  for  short,  but  my  real  name 
is  Lucy  Chenery  Vars. 

Our  house  is  a  big  ugly  brown  affair  which  Father 
built  when  we  were  all  babies  and  the  business  was 
'prosperous.  The  house  has  twenty  rooms  in  it,  and 
on  the  top  an  octagon  cupola,  which  I  have  fixed  up 
with  a  fish-net  and  some  old  tennis  rackets,  and 
call  my  study.  I  have  a  plaster  cast  of  a  skull  up 
here,  and  a  "  No  Trespassing "  sign  which  Juliet 
Adams  and  I  stole  out  of  old  Silas  Morton's  blue 
berry-pasture.  It  looks  exactly  like  a  college  man's 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER          3 

room  now  and  I  intend  to  do  all  my  writing  up  here. 
It  is  a  perfectly  lovely  place  for  inspirations!  From 
my  eight  little  windows  I  can  see  all  over  New  Eng 
land,  and  at  night  every  star  that  shines.  It  is  simply 
glorious  up  here  in  a  thunder-storm,  and  when  I  have 
the  trap-door  once  closed  behind  me,  with  all  my  cares 
and  troubles  shut  safely  away  down  below,  I  feel  as 
if  I  could  fly  with  the  birds.  I  ought  to  write  some 
thing  wonderful. 

In  the  first  place  I  had  better  state  that  I  haven't 
anything  distinguishing  about  me  except  my  experi 
ence.  I  am  middling  tall  —  five  feet  five  inches,  to  be 
precise;  middling  heavy — 112  pounds;  and  am  one 
of  six  children  —  four  boys  and  two  girls  —  with 
out  the  honour  of  being  either  the  oldest  or  youngest. 
With  Father  there  are  seven  of  us;  with  Nellie  and 
the  cook  (when  we  have  one)  and  poor  little  Dixie, 
the  horse,  there  are  ten. 

Father  is  a  big,  quiet,  solemn  man  and  is  sixty-eight 
years  old.  He  is  president  of  the  Vars  &  Company 
Woollen  Mills,  has  perfectly  white  hair,  and  wears 
grey  and  white  seersucker  coats  in  the  summer.  Torn 
is  the  oldest  and  is  in  business  out  West.  We're  all 
awfully  proud  of  Tom.  He  was  a  perfect  star  in  col 
lege,  and  is  making  money  hand  over  fist  with  his 
lumber  camps  in  Michigan.  Alec,  the  next  to  oldest, 
is  struggling  along  in  business  with  Father.  Then 
I  come,  and  next  to  me  the  twins  —  Oliver  and  Mal 
colm,  aged  fifteen  and  perfect  terrors.  Last  is 
Ruthie;  and  after  her,  mother  died  and  so  there 
weren't  any  more.  I  was  the  mother  then,  and  I  was 
only  a  little  over  five.  Father  says  he  used  to  put  me 
cm  the  dictionary  in  mother's  chair  at  the  table  when 


4          BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  was  so  little  that  Nellie  had  to  help  lift  the  big  sil 
ver  pot  while  I  poured  the  coffee.  Well,  I've  sat  there 
ever  since,  pushed  the  bell,  scowled  at  the  twins  and 
performed  a  mother's  duty  generally,  as  well  as  I 
knew  how. 

It  hasn't  been  easy.  Ruthie  isn't  the  kind  of  lit 
tle  sister  who  likes  to  be  petted  or  cuddled.  The 
twins  scorn  everything  I  do  or  say.  The  house  is  a 
perfect  elephant  to  run  (there  are  thirty-three  steps 
between  the  refrigerator  and  the  kitchen  sink)  and 
our  washings  are  something  frightful.  Alec  says  we 
simply  cannot  afford  a  laundress,  and  the  result  is 
that  I  spend  most  of  my  Saturday  mornings  in  intel 
ligence-offices  hunting  cooks.  Intelligence-offices  are 
dreadful  on  inspirations. 

Ever  since  I  can  remember,  the  house  has  been  out 
of  repair  —  certain  doors  that  \von't  close,  certain 
windows  that  have  no  shades,  certain  ceilings  that  are 
stained  and  smoked.  It's  hard  to  give  the  rooms  the 
proper  look  when  there  are  paths  worn  all  over  the 
Brussels  carpet,  exactly  like  cow-paths  in  a  pasture, 
and  the  stuffed  arms  of  the  furniture  in  the  parlour 
are  worn  as  bare  as  the  back  of  a  little  baby's  head  I 
once  saw. 

When  Tom  wrote  that  he  was  going  to  bring  Elise, 
his  young  bride,  whom  we  had  never  laid  eyes  on,  to 
Hilton  on  their  wedding  trip,  I  nearly  had  a  Connip 
tion  Fit.  I  thought  Tom  must  have  lost  his  mind. 
Any  one  ought  to  know  what  a  shock  our  house  would 
be  to  the  kind  of  girl  Tom  would  choose  to  marry. 
The  concrete  walk  that  leads  up  to  the  front  door  was 
dreadfully  cracked,  and  the  crevices  were  filled  with 
a  healthy  growth  of  green  grass.  The  iron  fountain 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER          5 

in  the  centre  of  the  walk  was  as  dry  as  a  desert,  and 
the  four  iron  urns  on  the  square  porch  as  empty  as 
shells.  The  ninety  feet  of  elaborate  iron  fence  that 
runs  in  front  of  the  house  needed  a  new  coat  of  paint, 
and  the  little  filigree  iron  edging,  standing  up  like 
stiffly  starched  Hamburg  embroidery  around  the  top 
of  the  cupola,  had  a  piece  knocked  out  in  front.  But 
Tom  would  come,  so  I  buckled  down  and  made  prep 
arations. 

I  must  explain  a  little  about  Tom.  It  isn't  simply 
because  he  is  the  oldest  son  that  we  all  look  up  to  him 
so  much.  Every  one  in  Hilton  admires  Tom.  The 
Weekly  Messenger  refers  to  his  "  brilliant  career," 
and  the  minister  at  our  church  calls  him  "  an  excep 
tional  young  man."  He  isn't  a  genius  —  he's  too  suc 
cessful  and  everybody  likes  him  too  much  for  a  ge 
nius  —  but  he's  different  from  the  other  young  men 
in  Hilton.  When  Father  picked  out  some  little  tech 
nical  school  or  other  for  Tom  to  go  to,  Tom  an 
nounced  that  he  was  awfully  sorry  but  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  graduate  from  the  biggest  uni 
versity  in  the  country.  And  once  there,  Tom  had  a 
perfectly  elegant  time!  Every  one  adored  him.  I 
saw  him  carried  off  once  on  the  shoulders  of  a  lot  of 
shouting  young  men,  who  were  singing  his  name. 
Why,  I  was  proud  to  be  Tom  Vars'  sister!  He  was 
captain  of  the  crew,  president  of  his  class,  a  member 
of  a  whole  lot  of  societies,  and  when  he  graduated  his 
name  was  printed  under  the  magna  cum  lande  list  on 
the  programme  (I  can  show  it  to  you  in  my  Souvenir 
Book)  which  meant  that  he  was  a  perfect  wizard  in 
his  lessons. 

Tom  graduated  the  year  that  Father's  business  be- 


6          BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

gan  to  look  a  little  wobbly.  Just  when  Father  was 
looking  forward,  with  a  good  deal  of  hope,  to  his  old 
est  son's  help  and  cooperation,  Tom  ran  up  home  for 
over  Sunday  one  day  in  May,  and  broke  the  news  that 
after  Commencement  he  had  decided  to  accept  a  po 
sition  from  his  room-mate's  rich  uncle  in  some  wild 
and  woolly  lumber  camps  in  Michigan.  It  just  about 
broke  poor  Father's  heart.  He  couldn't  enjoy  the 
honours  of  Tom's  Commencement.  But  Tom  went 
out  West  just  the  same  —  for  Tom  always  carries  out 
his  plans  —  he  went,  smiling  and  confident,  with  never 
a  single  reference  to  Father's  silence,  ignoring  abso 
lutely  the  sad  look  in  Father's  eyes.  He  went  just 
as  if  he  were  carrying  out  Father's  dearest  hope;  and 
the  funny  part  is,  that  inside  of  three  years  Tom  had 
made  Father  so  proud  of  his  hard  work  and  steady 
success  that  the  poor  dear  man's  disappointment  faded 
away  like  mist  before  the  sun,  as  they  say  in  Shakes 
peare  or  the  Bible  —  I  forget  which.  The  whole 
scheme  worked  like  a  charm,  as  Tom's  schemes  always 
do.  There  was  faithful  Alec  to  help  Father;  and  the 
rich  uncle,  who  had  no  son  of  his  own,  was  simply 
aching  to  get  hold  of  a  fine,  smart,  clean  young  man 
like  Tom  Chenery  Vars  to  boost  up  to  success. 

Whenever  Tom  had  a  holiday,  except  Christmas 
when  he  came  home,  he  spent  it  in  Chicago  with  his, 
room-mate  or  the  uncle.  That  is  how  he  happened 
to  fall  in  with  such  a  lot  of  fashionable  people  —  not 
that  Tom  ever  boasted  that  his  friends  were  fashion 
able,  for  Tom  never  blows  his  own  horn  —  but  I  knew 
they  were,  just  the  same.  He  used  to  send  stunning 
monograms  to  Ruthie  and  me  for  our  collections,  torn 
off  from  the  notes  which  his  wealthy  young-lady 


friends  wrote  to  him;  besides,  when  he  came  home 
for  Christmas  he  always  had  a  pocketful  of  kodak 
pictures  to  show  us  of  his  life  in  the  West.  They 
weren't  all  taken  in  the  lumber  camps.  Some  were 
snapshots  of  house-parties,  which  he'd  been  on,  and 
I  assure  you,  I  always  took  in  the  expensive  back 
ground  of  these  pictures  —  carved  stone  doorways, 
perfectly  elegant  houses,  lawns  kept  like  a  park,  and 
automobiles  with  chauffeurs  sitting  up  as  stiff  as  ram 
rods.  I  hadn't  much  doubt,  when  Tom  wrote  that  he 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss  Elise  Hildegarde 
Parmenter,  but  that  she  was  an  inmate  of  one  of  these 
millionaire  mansions,  and  I  was  absolutely  convinced 
of  it  when  I  laid  eyes  on  her  photograph  —  one  of 
those  brown  carbons  a  foot  square  —  and  counted  the 
six  magnificent  plumes  on  her  big  drooping  picture- 
hat.  I  knew  that  240  Main  Street,  Hilton,  Mass., 
would  look  pretty  worn  and  dingy  alongside  Sunny- 
lawn-by-the-Lake,  which  was  engraved  in  gold  letters 
and  hyphens  at  the  top  of  Miss  Parmenter's  heavy 
grey  note-paper. 

The  minute  Tom  wrote  that  he  was  going  to  bring 
his  elegant  bride  to  Hilton  I  button-holed  Father  and 
Alec  one  day  after  dinner,  and  told  those  two  men 
that  the  house  had  simply  got  to  be  done  over.  It 
was  disgraceful  as  it  was;  it  hadn't  been  painted  since 
I  could  remember;  it  was  unworthy  of  our  name. 
Father  reminded  me  that  the  reason  none  of  us  went 
to  the  wedding  (Tom  was  married  in  California,  on 
Elise's  father's  orange  ranch)  was  to  save  expense,  as 
I  already  knew,  and  merely  to  paint  the  house  would 
cost  the  price  of  a  ticket  or  two. 

"  Let  us  be  ourselves,  Lucy,"  said  Father  to  me, 


8          BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  ourselves,  child.  If  Tom's  wife  is  the  right  kind 
of  woman,  she  will  look  within,  within,  Lucy." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  but  the  inside  is  worse  than  the  out, 
Father.  The  wall-paper  in  the  guest-room — " 

Father  interrupted  me  gently. 

"  Within  our  hearts,"  he  corrected,  touching  his 
heavy  gold  watch-chain  across  his  chest.  "  Within 
pur  hearts,  Lucy." 

Father  is  a  perfectly  splendid  man,  but  I  knew  that 
spotless  hearts  wouldn't  excuse  smoked  ceilings;  and 
when,  the  next  day  being  Sunday,  I  saw  Father  drop 
his  little  white  sealed  envelope,  which  I  knew  con 
tained  five  perfectly  good  dollars,  into  the  contribu 
tion  box,  I  didn't  believe  any  heathen  girl  needed  that 
money  more  than  I. 

I  am  going  to  tell  about  that  first  appearance  of 
Elise's  in  detail.  But  it's  got  to  be  after  dinner,  for 
fifteen  minutes  ago  the  big  whistle  on  Father's  factory 
spurted  out  its  puff  of  white  steam  (I  could  see  it 
from  my  north  window  before  I  heard  the  blast)  and 
Father  and  Alec  will  soon  be  driving  up  the  hill  in 
the  phaeton,  with  the  top  down  and  the  reins  slack 
over  faithful  Dixie's  back.  I  must  be  within  calling- 
distance  when  Father  strikes  the  Chinese  gong  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  It's  the  first  thing  he  always  does 
when  he  enters  the  house  at  noon.  We  all  recognise 
his  two  strokes  on  each  one  of  the  three  notes  as 
surely  as  his  voice  or  step.  Why,  that  ring  of 
Father's  simply  speaks !  It  is  as  full  of  impatience  as 
a  motorman  ringing  for  a  truck  to  get  off  the  track. 

Father  hates  to  wait  for  dinner.  By  the  time  he 
has  taken  off  his  overcoat,  and  scrubbed  up  in  the 
wash-room  off  the  hall,  he  likes  us  all  to  be  seated  at 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER          9 

the  table  when  he  comes  into  the  dining-room. 
"  Hello,  chicken,"  he  says  to  me.  "  Hello,  baby," 
to  Ruth.  (He  calls  Dixie  "baby"  too.)  "Hello, 
boys,"  to  the  twins.  Then  he  sits  down  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  opposite  me,  clears  his  throat  as  a  sig 
nal,  and  asks  the  blessing. 

Father's  blessing  is  always  the  same  except  when 
we  have  company.  I  can  tell  how  important  the  com 
pany  is  by  the  length  of  Father's  prayer.  When 
Juliet  Adams,  my  best  friend,  drops  in  for  supper,  she 
is  served  the  regular  everyday  family  blessing,  but 
when  we  have  company  important  enough  to  put  on 
the  best  dishes,  or  at  the  first  meal  that  Tom  is  with 
us,  Father  keeps  at  it  so  long  that  the  twins  get  to 
fooling  with  each  other  under  cover  of  the  table 
cloth.  I  wished  Father  would  omit  the  blessing  en 
tirely  when  Elise  came,  and  family  prayers  too. 
They're  so  old-fashioned  nowadays;  but  I  knew  bet 
ter  than  to  suggest  such  a  preposterous  thing.  Father 
is  a  member  of  the  Standing  Committee  at  our  church, 
and  has  a  lot  of  principles. 

There  he  is  coming  now !  I  wish  he  could  afford  a 
new  carriage.  I'm  simply  dying  for  one  of  those 
sporty  little  red-wheeled  runabouts! 


CHAPTER  II 

AMONG  the  first  things  I  did  in  preparation  for 
Elise's  visit  was  to  set  the  twins  to  work  on  the 
lawn,  and  Ruthie  to  clearing  up  a  rubbishly-looking 
place  back  of  the  barn  where  there  was  a  pile  of  old 
boxes  and  barrel  hoops. 

I  myself  harnessed  up  Dixie,  made  a  trip  to  the 
country,  and  brought  back  three  bushel-baskets  full 
of  rock  ferns  from  the  woods.  Juliet  Adams  helped 
me  fill  the  iron  urns  the  next  day.  I  know  very  well 
that  red  geraniums,  hanging  vines,  and  a  little  palm 
in  the  centre  are  the  correct  plants  for  urns  (there's 
a  painting  of  one  on  the  garden  scenery  at  our  thea 
tre  here  in  Hilton)  but  as  geraniums  are  a  dollar 
and  a  quarter  a  dozen,  and  the  urns  are  perfectly 
enormous,  I  knew  that  such  luxuries  could  not  be  af 
forded.  I  also  knew  that  it  was  out  of  the  question 
to  work  the  fountain.  I  cleared  out  its  collection  of 
leaves,  soused  it  well  with  the  hose,  and  was  obliged 
to  leave  it  in  the  middle  of  the  walk,  out  of  commis 
sion,  but  at  least  clean.  The  tennis-court,  which 
hadn't  been  used  for  tennis  for  ten  years,  had  now 
passed  even  the  potato-patch  era  and  was  a  perfect 
mass  of  weeds.  I  paid  the  twins  five  cents  each  for 
mowing  it  twice,  and  then  set  out  the  croquet  set  with 
a  string.  I  put  a  fresh  coat  of  white  paint  on  the 
wickets,  and  though  the  ground  was  far  too  uneven 
for  any  practical  use,  the  general  effect  at  a  distance 
was  not  bad  at  all. 

10 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        11 

I  spent  two  solid  afternoons  in  the  stable  sweeping 
and  cleaning  as  if  my  life  depended  on  it.  We  don't 
keep  a  man  now.  Dixie  is  the  only  horse  we  own, 
and  Alec  does  all  the  feeding  and  rubbing-down  that 
Dixie  gets.  Poor  little  Dixie,  rattling  around  in  one 
of  the  big  box  stalls,  can't  give  the  place  the  proper 
air.  It's  a  stunning  stable  —  stalls  for  eight  horses 
and  a  big  room  filled  with  all  sorts  of  carriages. 
They  are  dreadfully  out  of  style  now  (I  used  to  play 
house  in  them  when  I  was  ten  and  they  had  begun 
their  dust  gathering  even  then),  but  Father  says  they 
were  the  best  that  could  be  bought  in  their  day.  I 
pinned  the  white  sheets  that  cover  them  down  around 
their  bodies  as  closely  as  I  could,  so  that  Miss  Par- 
menter  couldn't  see  how  out-of-date  the  dear  old  arks 
were.  I  cleaned  up  all  the  harnesses  and  hung  them 
up,  black  and  shining,  on  the  wooden  pegs.  In  an 
old  sleigh  upstairs  I  discovered  a  girl's  saddle,  which 
I  dusted  and  hung  up  in  plain  view  by  the  whip-rack ; 
there's  something  so  sporty  about  horseback  riding! 
I  was  bound  to  have  Miss  Parmenter  know  that  at 
one  time  we  were  prosperous. 

But  most  of  my  efforts  of  course  went  into  the 
house.  It  was  terribly  discouraging.  We  own  loads 
of  black  walnut,  and  though  I  begged  and  begged  for 
a  brass  bed  for  the  guest-room,  Father  was  adamant. 
He  had  allowed  me  to  have  the  room  repapered  and 
that,  he  said,  was  all  that  I  must  ask  for.  The  new 
paper  really  was  lovely.  I  picked  it  out  myself,  pink 
roses  on  a  light  blue  ground  and  a  plate-rail  half-way 
up. 

I  spent  a  lot  of  pains  on  the  guest-room,  carrying 
out  the  pink  and  blue  colour-scheme  in  every  possi- 


12        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

ble  detail.  I  took  the  light  blue  rose  bowl  off  the 
mantel  in  the  sitting-room  and  put  it  on  the  bureau, 
for  hatpins.  I  rehung  my  "  Yard  of  Pink  Roses  " 
over  the  guest-room  mantel.  My  blue  kimona  I  had 
freshly  laundered  and  hung  it  up  in  the  closet.  A 
pair  of  pink  bedroom  slippers  were  carefully  placed 
beneath.  I  found  a  book  in  the  library  bound  in  pink, 
entitled  "  Baby  Thoughts,"  and  put  it  on  the  marble- 
topped  guest-room  table  alongside  a  magazine  and  my 
workbasket  on  which  I  had  sewed  a  huge  blue  bow 
and  inside  of  which  I  had  placed  my  solid  gold  thim 
ble.  I  also  tied  a  smashing  pink  and  blue  rosette  on 
the  waste-basket;  and  the  half-dozen  coat-hangers 
which  I  was  able  to  scare  up  out  of  Alec's  and  Father's 
closets  Ruthie  wound  with  pink  and  blue  ribbons.  I 
didn't  neglect  the  more  necessary  details  either.  I 
paid  thirty-five  cents  for  a  cake  of  pink  French  soap; 
and  the  only  embroidered  towels  we  own  I  strung 
along  in  a  showy  row  on  the  back  of  the  commode. 
In  the  tooth-brush  holder  I  placed  a  sealed  Prophy 
lactic  tooth-brush,  which  I  read  in  the  Perfect  House 
keeper  should  be  found  in  every  nicely  appointed 
guest-room ;  nor  did  I  overlook  the  Bible,  and  candle 
aLd  matches  by  the  bed.  The  Perfect  Housekeeper 
say?  that  it  is  the  little  touches  in  your  home,  such 
,as  a  fresh  bunch  of  flowers  on  the  shelf  in  your 
guest-room,  or  in  cold  weather  a  hot-water  bag  be 
tween  the  sheets,  that  count  with  a  guest.  I  was 
dreadfully  sorry  that  it  was  too  warm  for  hot-water 
bottles. 

I  was  in  perfect  despair  about  Nellie.  Nellie  is 
our  second-girl  and  has  been  with  us  for  years.  Nel 
lie  doesn't  look  a  bit  like  a  servant.  She  has  grey 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        13 

hair  and  wears  glasses.  People  are  always  mistaking 
her  for  an  aunt.  I  wrote  out  a  set  of  rules  for  Nel 
lie,  tacked  them  up  over  the  sink  in  the  butler's  pantry, 
and  told  her  to  study  them  during  the  week  before 
Tom  and  Elise  were  due  to  arrive.  Here's  a  copy  of 
them: 

Rule  i 

When  a  meal  is  ready  don't  stand  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  and  holler  "  Dinner !  "  Come  to  me  and  say  in  a 
low,  well  modulated  voice,  "  Dinner  is  served,  Miss 
Lucy." 

Rule  2 

Be  sure  and  call  me  Miss  Lucy,  and  Tom,  Mister 
Tom.  Never  plain  Tom  or  plain  Lucy.  And  so  on 
through  the  family. 

Rule  3 

When  I  ring  the  bell  during  a  meal,  don't  just  stick 
your  head  in  through  the  swinging-door  but  enter  all- 
over  and  find  out  what  is  wanted. 

Rule  4 

Don't  offer  a  last  biscuit  or  piece  of  cake  and  say, 
"  There's  more  in  the  kitchen." 

Rule  5 

If  any  member  of  the  family  asks  for  any  other  mem 
ber  of  the  family,  don't  say,  "  They're  in  the  barn,  or 
down-cellar,  or  upstairs,"  but  go  quietly  and  find  them 
yourself. 

Rule  6 

Be  sure  and  put  ice-water  every  night  into  Mrs.  Vars' 
bedroom  when  you  turn  down  the  bed. 

Rule  7 
If  you  get  the  hiccups  when  waiting  on  the  table, 


14        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

withdraw  to  the  kitchen  immediately  and  take  ten  swal 
lows  of  water. 

Nellie  is  a  good-natured  old  soul.  I  can  manage 
her  beautifully,  but  it  took  a  head  to  do  anything  with 
Delia.  Delia  was  the  cook.  I  was  in  the  butler's 
pantry  the  day  before  Tom  and  Elise  arrived,  putting 
away  the  family  napkin-rings  (for  of  course  I  know 
napkin-rings  are  tabooed)  when  it  occurred  to  me  that 
we  had  got  to  have  clean  napkins  for  every  meal  as 
long  as  Elise  stayed.  If  she  was  with  us  a  week 
that  would  make  a  hundred  and  sixty-eight  napkins 
in  all,  counting  three  meals  a  day  and  eight  people  at 
the  table.  We  owned  just  four  dozen  napkins  and 
that  meant  —  I  figured  it  all  out  on  a  piece  of  paper 
—  that  the  whole  four  dozen  would  have  to  be  washed 
every  other  day.  I  went  out  into  the  kitchen  and  ex 
plained  it  to  Delia  just  as  nicely  and  sweetly  as  I 
could.  She  went  off  on  a  regular  tangent.  It  was 
enough,  she  said,  all  the  extra  style  I  was  planning 
on,  without  piling  on  a  week's  washing  for  every 
other  day.  She  said  she'd  never  heard  of  such  tom 
my  rot,  and  if  a  napkin  was  clean  enough  for  Tom  and 
Tom's  family,  she  guessed  it  was  clean  enough  for 
Tom's  wife,  whoever  she  was.  I  was  simply  in 
censed  ! 

"  We  won't  discuss  it,"  I  said  with  much  dignity. 
"  Not  another  word,  please,  Delia,"  and  I  left  the 
kitchen. 

I  heard  her  slam  a  kettle  into  the  iron  sink,  and 
mutter  something  about  "  another  place,"  so  I  thought 
it  better  policy  not  to  press  my  point.  I  hate  being 
imposed  upon  —  there  isn't  a  teacher  at  the  high 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        15 

school  who  can  talk  Lucy  Vars  into  a  hole  —  but  I 
wasn't  going  to  cut  off  my  own  nose.  So  I  went 
straight  to  the  telephone,  called  up  a  drygoods  store 
and  ordered  ten  dozen  medium-priced  napkins  to  be 
sent  up  special.  All  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  I  sat 
at  the  sewing-machine  hemming  like  mad,  and  Nellie 
folded  the  things  so  that  the  machine  stitches  wouldn't 
show.  I  knew  that  napkins  should  be  hemmed  by 
hand. 

Tom  and  Elise  were  due  at  eight  o'clock  on  a  Wed 
nesday  night.  I  had  it  planned  that  Father  and  Alec 
would  meet  them  at  the  station  and  I  would  remain 
at  the  house  to  greet  them  as  they  came  in.  I 
wished  awfully  that,  we  had  a  coachman  and  some 
decent  horses,  but  I  begged  Father  to  hire  a  carriage 
and  he  promised  that  he  would.  The  suspense  while 
I  waited  for  them  to  drive  up  over  the  hill  was  as 
awful  as  when  I've  been  sent  for  by  the  principal  at 
the  high  school  —  kind  of  thrilly  inside  and  as  nerv 
ous  as  a  cat.  I  walked  from  room  to  room  like  a 
caged  animal,  trying  to  imagine  how  the  old  house 
would  look  to  a  person  who  hadn't  lived  in  it  for 
ever.  I  lit  the  open  fire  in  the  hall,  arranged  the 
books  on  the  sitting-room  table  for  the  hundredth 
time,  and  watched  the  piano-lamp  like  a  hawk.  It 
smokes  the  ceilings  if  you  leave  it  alone. 

The  twins,  Oliver  and  Malcolm,  stationed  them 
selves  in  the  parlour  to  keep  watch  of  the  road. 
About  half -past  eight  Oliver  hollered  out,  "  They're 
coming,  Bobbie !  "  and  I  went  out  into  the  hall  and 
opened  the  door.  I  saw  the  big  bulky  old  depot  car 
riage  draw  up  to  the  curbing  out  beyond  the  iron 
'fountain,  and  I  whispered  to  the  twins,  "  Go  down 


and  help  with  their  bags !  "  They  pushed  by  me ;  and 
a  minute  after,  everybody  was  in  a  confused  bunch 
in  the  vestibule  —  Oliver  and  Malcolm  with  the  suit 
cases,  Father  and  Alec,  Ruthie  hanging  on  to  my 
skirt,  and  finally  Tom,  big  and  handsome  and  nat 
ural! 

"  Hello,  Bobbie,  old  girl/'  he  said.  "  Hello,  little 
Ruthiemus!"  And  suddenly  behind  him  Elise  ap 
peared  —  tall,  pale  as  a  lily,  quiet,  and  very  calm. 
"  Well,  here  they  all  are,  Elise,"  Tom  went  on  lus 
tily,  "  Malcolm  and  Oliver,  and  Bobbie  who  is  the 
mother  of  us,  and  Ruthiemus  the  baby." 

Elise  came  forward,  shook  hands  with  the  boys, 
and  when  she  came  to  me  she  kissed  me.  I'd  never 
been  so  near  such  a  perfectly  gorgeous  Irish-lace 
jabot  in  my  life.  After  she  had  leaned  down  and 
kissed  Ruth  she  said  in  the  quietest,  lowest  voice  I 
ever  heard,  while  we  all  stared,  "  I  know  you  all,  al 
ready,  for  Chenery  has  told  me  all  about  you." 

Chenery!  How  perfectly  absurd!  No  one  ever 
calls  Tom  anything  but  just  plain  Tom.  We  all  have 
Chenery  for  a  middle  name  —  it  was  mother's  be 
fore  she  was  married  —  but  it  is  only  to  sign.  After 
that  remark  about  Chenery  the  silence  was  simply 
deathly,  but  Alec,  who  always  comes  to  the  rescue,  ex 
claimed,  "  Don't  you  people  intend  to  stop  with  us 
to-night?  Usher  us  in,  Bobbie." 

There  was  none  of  the  Vars  hail-fellow-well-met, 
slap-you-on-the-back  spirit  about  that  evening.  We 
all  distributed  ourselves  in  a  circle  about  the  sitting- 
room,  exactly  like  a  Bible-class  at  church,  and  talked 
in  the  stiffest,  most  formal  way  imaginable.  I  don't 
know  why  we  couldn't  be  natural;  but  Elise,  sitting 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        17 

there  so  perfectly  at  ease,  smiling  and  talking  so 
gracefully  made  us  feel  like  country  bumpkins  before 
a  princess.  I  was  furious  at  her  for  making  us  ap 
pear  in  such  a  light.  Why  couldn't  Tom  have  mar 
ried  somebody  like  ourselves,  some  jolly  good  sport 
who  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  hurt  her  clothes?  I  knew 
Elise  Hildegarde  Parmenter's  style.  She  wore  some 
of  those  high-heeled  shoes,  like  undressed  kid  gloves, 
and  her  feet  were  regular  pocket  editions.  If  we  had 
acted  as  we  usually  do  when  Tom  comes  home,  all 
talking  and  laughing  at  once,  we'd  have  shocked  this 
delicate  little  piece  of  china  into  a  thousand  bits. 

I  was  dreadfully  surprised  at  Tom  when  he  said, 
as  if  Elise  was  not  there,  "  Come  on,  Bobbie,  bring 
in  the  apples." 

You  see  it  is  one  of  our  customs,  the  first  night  that 
Tom  comes  home,  to  sit  up  awfully  late  and  eat  ap 
ples,  Father  paring  them  with  an  old  kitchen  knife. 
But  of  course  I  wasn't  going  to  have  apples  to-night, 
of  all  times,  passed  around  in  quarters  on  the  end  of 
a  knife.  So  I  said  to  Tom  as  quietly  as  possible,  for 
really  I  was  catching  Elise's  manner,  "  Not  apples  to 
night,  Tom.  I  ordered  a  little  chocolate.  I'll  speak 
to  Nellie."  I  had  gotten  out  our  best  hand-painted 
violet  chocolate  cups,  told  Delia  to  make  some  cocoa 
and  whip  some  cream,  and  had  opened  a  fresh  pack 
age  of  champagne  wafers.  Everything  was  all  ready 
on  a  tray  in  the  dining-room,  so  I  went  out  and  told 
Nellie  to  bring  it  in.  When  she  appeared  holding  the 
big  tray  out  before  her  I  had  to  bite  my  tongue  to 
keep  from  laughing.  Nellie  had  never  worn  a  cap 
before  and  it  didn't  seern  to  go  with  her  style.  It 
was  sticking  straight  up  on  the  top  of  her  grey  pug 


i8        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

of  hair  like  a  bird  on  the  tip  end  of  a  flag  pole.  I 
saw  Malcolm  and  Oliver  begin  to  giggle.  I  squelched 
them  with  a  look  and  began  stirring  my  chocolate 
hard. 

"  Hello,  Nellie,"  said  Tom,  when  the  tray  reached 
him,  and  though  I'd  cautioned  Nellie  a  hundred  times 
to  address  Tom  as  Mister  Tom,  she  got  it  mixed  up 
in  some  stupid  fashion,  and  replied,  "  How  do  you 
do,  Mister  Vars,"  and  Father  who  heard  her  come 
out  with  his  name  asked,  "  Did  you  speak  to  me, 
Nellie?"  Nellie  replied,  "No,  I  didn't.  I  was 
speaking  to  Tom." 

Late  that  first  night,  as  I  was  turning  out  my  light, 
and  after  I  had  set  my  alarm-clock  for  quarter  oi; 
six  (  for  I  thought  I'd  better  get  up  early  and  see  how 
things  were  running)  Malcolm  and  Oliver  pushed 
open  my  door  and  came  in.  Behind  them  was  Alec 
on  his  way  to  bed. 

"  Hello,  Bobbie,"  they  said,  grinning. 

"  Close  the  door,"  I  whispered,  and  then  I  wrapped 
myself  up  in  a  down  comforter  and  crawled  up  on  the 
bed.  My  brothers  came  over  and  all  sat  down  around 
me. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "what  do  you  think  of  her?" 

"  Did  you  see  the  diamond  pendant  ?  "  Malcolm  be 
gan.  "  It  was  a  ripper!  " 

•  "  Tom  gave  her  that  for  a  wedding-present,"  Oliver 
explained. 

"  He  did! "  I  was  amazed.  "  Plain  Tom  slinging 
around  diamond  pendants  like  that !  " 

"  He'll  have  to,  to  live  up  to  being  called  Chenery. 
Did  you  get  on  to  that?" 

"  Did  I  ?     Isn't  it  too  silly  ?     I  hate  such  airs !     .We 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        19 

stand  for  good  plain  things  and  why  couldn't  Tom  get 
something  plain  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  a  blue-blood,"  said  Oliver.  "  We're 
regular  Indians  beside  her." 

"  No,  we're  not,  Oliver  Vars,"  I  flared  back. 
"  Don't  you  say  that.  I  shan't  eat  humble-pie  for  any 
one.  We're  just  as  good  as  she  is.  It's  brains  that 
count." 

"  I  bet  a  dollar  she  couldn't  throw  a  ball  straight; 
and  she  looks  as  if  she'd  be  afraid  of  the  dark,"  said 
Malcolm. 

"  Oh,  come  ahead,  you  young  knockers,"  inter 
rupted  Alec,  who  hadn't  said  a  word  till  now  —  Alec 
never  says  much  and  when  he  does  it's  always  nice 
— "  Come  along  to  bed,  and  let  the  General-manager 
here  get  a  little  rest.  Good-night,  Bobbie,"  he  said, 
coming  up  to  me  and  giving  me  a  little  good-natured 
shove,  so  that  I  toppled  over  on  the  bed.  Oliver  and 
Malcolm  each  grabbed  a  pillow. 

"  Good-night,  angel,"  they  sang  out  as  they 
lammed  them  at  me  hard.  I  heard  them  dash  out  of 
the  room  and  slam  the  door  with  a  bang.  Nice  old 
brothers!  We  Vars  never  waste  much  time  in  kiss 
ing,  but  we  understand  all  right. 

The  next  morning  I  was  down  in  the  kitchen  before 
Delia  had  her  fire  made.  About  eight  o'clock  when 
we  were  all  flaxing  around  as  fast  as  we  could  there 
suddenly  broke  out  upon  us  a  very  queer  noise.  It 
sounded  like  a  cat  trying  to  meow  when  it  had  a 
dreadful  cold.  It  startled  me  awfully  and  Delia  gave 
a  terrible  jump. 

"  For  the  love  of  Mike,  what's  that?  "  said  she. 

I  investigated,  and  after  a  little,  I  discovered  the 


20        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

cause.  Years  ago  we  had  some  sort  of  a  bell  sys 
tem  that  connected  with  all  the  rooms,  with  an  indi 
cator  in  the  kitchen.  We  hadn't  used  it  for  a  long 
time  and  I  supposed  the  whole  system  was  as  dilap 
idated  as  the  stable.  Whenever  we  wanted  Nellie 
for  anything  we  found  it  easier  to  go  to  the  back 
stairs  and  holler.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  elec 
trician  who  had  put  in  some  new  batteries  the  week 
before,  for  the  front  door  bell,  which  before  Elise 
came  was  dreadfully  unreliable,  must  have  monkeyed 
with  the  other  bells  too. 

"  Elise  has  rung  for  you,"  I  said  to  Nellie,  thank 
ful  with  all  my  heart  that  the  old  thing  had  worked. 
I  knew  that  Tom  was  already  downstairs,  so  of 
course  wasn't  there  to  tell  her  that  the  old  push-button 
didn't  mean  a  thing,  and  I  was  glad  of  that.  Heaven 
knew  there  was  enough  else  to  apologise  for. 

When  Nellie  came  back  I  asked,  "  What  did  she 
want  ?  " 

"  She  wanted  me  to  button  up  her  waist  and  also 
to  give  me  her  laundry." 

"  Laundry !  "  gasped  Delia.  I  never  could  under 
stand  why  cooks  hate  washing  so. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  turning  to  her,  "  laundry !  I  told 
Mrs.  Vars,"  I  went  on  with  much  authority,  "  to  put 
any  soiled  clothing  she  might  have  in  a  pink  and  blue 
bag  which  I  made  to  match  the  guest-room,  for  this 
express  purpose  —  for  her  to  put  her  laundry  in. 
That's  only  hospitality."  I  crossed  the  room.  "  And 
now  you  may  put  breakfast  on,  Delia,"  I  finished,  and 
went  out. 

After  breakfast  Nellie  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Delia 
wishes  to  speak  to  you  in  the  kitchen." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        21 

My  heart  sank.  I  left  Elise  in  the  sitting-room 
talking  in  her  lovely  soft  way  to  Father  and  Alec. 
Delia  was  in  the  laundry  standing  by  a  regular  hay 
stack  of  lacy  lingerie.  She  was  holding  up  the  most 
superb  lace  skirt  I  ever  saw,  rows  upon  rows  of  in 
sertion  and  if  you'll  believe  me  made  every  inch  by 
hand. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  say,"  she  began,  "  that  I  don't 
stay  if  I  have  to  wash  these.  They  aren't  dirty,  in 
the  first  place,  and  what's  more  I'm  not  hired  to  wash 
company's  clothes,  and  what's  more  I  won't.  And 
what's  more  still,  I  think  you  better  hunt  for  another 
girl." 

I  couldn't  have  received  more  depressing  news.  I 
hated  being  ruled  by  a  cook,  and  I  hated  to  let  her 
go.  I  didn't  have  a  soul  to  ask  about  it.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I  flared  right  up. 

"  The  washing  must  be  done,"  I  said  sternly. 
"  That's  settled." 

Delia  dropped  the  skirt. 

"  All  right.  I'll  do  the  washing  to-day,"  she  an 
nounced,  "  and  I'll  leave  to-morrow." 

I  just  wanted  to  sit  down  and  cry  and  cry  and  say, 
"  O  please  be  nice  about  it  and  help  us  out.  Please 
stay!  O  please,  please,  please!"  But  I  did  no  such 
thing.  I  bit  my  lip  hard  and  replied,  "  Very  well," 
and  when  I  joined  the  others  in  the  sitting-room,  I 
.was  apparently  as  undisturbed  as  a  summer's  breeze. 

Things  got  no  better  as  time  went  on.  Elise  didn't 
fit  into  our  family  a  bit.  None  of  us  was  natural. 
Father  didn't  ring  the  gong  when  he  came  in  at  noon 
and  call  up  to  me,  "  Slippers,  chicken  " ;  the  twins 
didn't  fool  under  the  tablecloth  and  call  me  "  Snod- 


22        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

grass,"  "  Angel "  or  "  Trolley "  (because  of  my 
shape)  ;  Alec  didn't  tilt  back  on  the  hind  legs  of  his 
chair  after  dessert,  with  his  hands  shoved  down  in 
his  pockets;  Ruthie  didn't  practice  a  note  on  the 
piano;  even  Tom  was  different.  At  first  he  tried  to 
whoop  things  up  in  the  old  Vars  fashion,  but  he  gave 
it  up  after  an  attempt  or  two.  We  wouldn't  respond. 
We  balked  like  stubborn  horses,  while  all  the  time 
Elise  kept  right  on  being  very  sweet  and  charming, 
but,  oh  my,  cold  and  far  away. 

Her  tact  got  on  my  nerves.  I  realised  that  she 
was  trying  to  be  nice,  but  her  appreciation  of  every 
thing  made  me  tired.  Of  course  she  had  seen  grander 
houses  than  ours  and  yet  she  pretended  to  enthuse 
over  our  old-fashioned  mantels.  "  What  fine  wood 
work  in  them,"  she'd  say  to  Father,  "  and  what  beau 
tiful  mahogany  in  those  sliding-doors !  "  or,  as  she 
gazed  at  our  ornate  black  walnut  bookcase,  she  would 
remark,  "  Black  walnut  is  becoming  so  popular !  " 
Once  she  exclaimed,  "  How  many  books  you  have !  " 
and  her  eyes  were  resting  on  a  row  of  black-bound 
town  records  Father  insists  on  keeping.  When  she 
and  I  attempted  a  miserable  game  of  croquet  she  re 
marked,  "  I  think  it  is  more  fun  having  the  ground 
a  little  uneven."  Heavens,  I  would  have  loved  her 
if  she  had  blurted  out,  "Say,  this  is  rotten!  Let's 
not  play."  I  despise  insincerity. 


ONE  day  at  dinner  (I've  forgotten  whether  it  was 
the  first  or  second  day  of  Elise's  visit,  but  any 
how  it  was  before  the  ice  was  broken)  Father  sug 
gested  that  Tom  take  the  new  member  of  our  family 
for  a  drive  in  the  afternoon  with  Dixie  (he  and  Alec, 
could  go  out  to  the  factory  by  electrics),  so  as  soon  as 
Elise  went  upstairs  to  rest,  as  she  always  did  after 
dinner,  I  escaped  to  the  barn,  to  hitch  up.  Alec 
doesn't  have  much  time  to  devote  to  Dixie  and  I  gave 
that  poor  little  animal  such  a  currying  as  he  had  never 
had  before  in  his  life.  Then  I  drew  up  the  check 
two  holes  higher,  dusted  out  the  phaeton,  and  put  in 
the  best  yellow  plush  robe  and  lash  whip. 

Elise  and  Tom  got  back  about  half -past  six.  I 
was  in  the  sitting-room  when  Elise  came  into  the 
house. 

"  Chenery  has  been  showing  me  all  the  sights," 
she  said.  "  I  think  Hilton  is  lovely  I  told  Chenery 
we  were  staying  too  long.  I'm  afraid  we're  late  for 
dinner.  But  I'll  hurry.  It  won't  take  me  ten  min- 
tutes  to  dress." 

Dinner  indeed!  I  wondered  if  she  called  the  lay 
out  we  had  at  noon  just  lunch.  We've  always  had 
supper  at  night  and  I  hadn't  intended  changing  for 
Elise.  But  if  she'd  gone  upstairs  to  dress  for  it, 
I'd  got  to  prepare  something  besides  tea,  sliced  meat 
and  toast,  for  all  the  trouble  she  was  taking.  I  flew 
to  the  kitchen.  .We  had  a  can  of  beef -extract,  and  I 

23 


24        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

told  Delia  to  make  soup  out  of  that.  Then  I  sent 
Ruth  for  some  beefsteak,  hauled  down  a  can  of  peas 
for  a  vegetable,  and  the  sliced  oranges  which  were 
already  prepared  would  have  to  do  for  dessert.  I 
rushed  to  my  room,  put  on  my  best  light  blue  cash 
mere  and  laid  out  Ruth's  white  muslin. 

It  was,  after  all,  on  the  first  day  of  Elise's  visit  that 
she  took  that  drive  with  Dixie,  for  this,  I  remember 
now,  was  the  first  evening  meal  that  she  had  had  with 
us.  An  awful  catastrophe  took  place  during  the 
ordeal  too.  In  the  first  place,  having  dinner  at  night 
added  to  the  strain  the  family  were  all  under,  and  it 
may  have  been  due  to  the  general  atmosphere  of  un 
easiness  that  made  Nellie  so  stupid  and  careless.  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  when  she  was  pass 
ing  the  crackers  to  Elise,  during  the  soup  course,  her 
cap  got  loose  somehow  and  fell  cafluke  on  Elise's 
bread-and-butter  plate.  There  was  an  instant  of 
dead  quiet,  and  then  Oliver,  who  just  at  that  moment 
happened  to  have  his  mouth  full  of  soup,  exploded 
like  a  rubber  ball  with  water  in  it.  He  shoved  back 
his  chair  with  a  jerk,  and  coughing  and  choking  into 
his  napkin,  got  up  and  left  the  room.  Of  course  that 
sent  Malcolm  off  into  a  regular  spasm,  and  little  Ruth 
began  to  giggle  too.  I  could  feel  myself  growing 
as  red  as  a  beet,  but  I  didn't  laugh.  No  one  laughed 
outright. 

Elise  was  the  first  one  to  break  the  pause,  and  this 
is  what  she  said: 

"  I've  had  the  loveliest  drive  this  afternoon,"  and 
then  as  no  one  replied  she  went  on,  "  Chenery  took 
me  around  the  reservoir.  How  old  are  the  ruins  of 
that  old  mill  at  the  upper  end  ?  " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        25 

Perhaps  you  think  that  that  was  a  very  graceful 
way  of  treating  the  situation,  but  I  didn't.  We  were 
all  simply  dying  to  laugh.  We  couldn't  think  of  old 
mills  with  that  cap  sticking  on  Elise' s  butter.  How 
ever,  I  heard  Father  at  the  other  end  of  the  table 
making  some  sort  of  an  answer  to  Elise,  and  all  of 
us  managed  to  control  themselves  somehow  or  other. 
Nellie,  red  in  the  face,  carried  the  bread-and-butter 
plate  away;  Oliver  sneaked  back  into  his  place;  and 
I  slowly  began  to  cool  off.  But  of  course  it  spoiled 
the  meal  for  me. 

As  soon  after  the  horrible  occurrence  as  possible,  I 
escaped  up  here  to  my  cupola,  and  Tom  found  me 
here  before  he  went  to  bed.  I  knew  he  must  be  dis 
appointed  at  the  way  I  was  running  things.  I  hadn't 
been  alone  with  him  before,  and  when  his  head 
pushed  up  through  the  trap  door  and  he  asked,  "  You 
here  ?  "  I  didn't  answer.  I  was  sitting  in  the  pitch 
dark  on  the  window-seat,  but  Tom  must  have  seen 
my  shadow  for  he  came  up  and  stood  beside  me.  He 
remained  perfectly  silent  for  a  minute  then  he  said, 
"  Aren't  there  a  lot  of  stars  out  to-night!  " 

"  Oh,  Tom,"  I  burst  out,  "  I'm  so  sorry !     Wasn't 
it  awful?     Everything's  going  all  wrong." 
i     He  sat  down. 

"  It's  all  right,  Bobbie,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Only  I 
wish  Elise  might  see  us  as  we  really  are.  Then,"  he 
added,  "  you  would  see  Elise  as  she  really  is." 

Tom  didn't  ask  me  how  I  liked  her  (he  knew  bet 
ter  than  to  do  that),  and  suddenly  I  felt  sorry  for 
my  brother.  I  could  have  almost  cried,  not  because 
of  the  accident  at  dinner,  not  because  of  my  failure, 
but  because  Elise  hadn't  made  us  like  her.  I  did  so 


26        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

want  Tom's  wife  to  be  the  same  bully  sort  of  person 
Tom  was. 

The  crisis  came  the  next  day.  At  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  I  found  Delia  putting  on  her  coat  and 
hat,  actually  preparing  to  go. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Can't  you  see  ?  "  she  asked  very  saucily. 

"  But  the  washing.     Have  you —  " 

"  No,  I  haven't,  and  what's  more  I'm  not  going 
to."  She  was  spitting  mad. 

I  stood  there,  just  helpless  before  her. 

"  I  have  telephoned  to  all  the  intelligence  offices," 
I  said,  "  and  I  can't  get  anyone  to  come  until  Satur 
day  night.  I  thought,  to  accommodate  us,  you  might 
be  willing  —  " 

She  cut  me  right  off: 

"  Well,  I'm  not !  No  one  accommodates  me  here, 
and  I'm  not  used  to  being  treated  like  this.  Two 
dinners  a  day  and  up  until  all  hours !  " 

It  didn't  seem  to  me  as  if  she  had  half  so  much  to 
stand  as  I  did.  I  wished  I  could  up  and  clear  out  too. 
I  thought  she  was  very  disagreeable  to  leave  me  in 
the  lurch  that  way.  But  I  didn't  have  any  words 
with  her.  I  told  her  she  might  go  as  soon  as  she 
pleased.  I  hated  the  sight  of  her  standing  there  in 
jthe  kitchen,  which  she  had  left  all  spick  and  span, 
not  as  a  kitchen  should  look  at  eleven  in  the  morning 
with  half  a  dozen  full-grown  mouths  to  be  fed  at  one 
o'clock. 

I  was  on  my  way  upstairs  to  break  the  news  to 
Nellie  when  Elise  called  to  me  from  the  sitting- 
room. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,"  she  said  in  her  musical  voice,  "  will 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        27 

there  be  time  for  me  to  run  over  to  the  postoffice  with 
some  letters  before  lunch?" 

I  stalked  into  the  sitting-room.  She  was  sitting  at 
the  desk  in  her  graceful  easy  way,  with  a  beautiful 
French  hand-embroidered  lingerie  waist  on,  that  I'd 
be  glad  to  own  for  very  best.  There  were  gold  beads( 
about  her  neck,  and  her  hair,  even  in  the  morning, 
was  soft  and  fluffy  and  wavy.  She  had  her  feet 
crossed  and  I  took  in  the  silk  stockings  and  the  low 
dull-leather  pumps. 

I  had  a  sudden  desire  to  tear  down  all  her  beauti 
ful  appearance  of  ease  and  grace. 

"  We  don't  have  lunch  at  noon,"  I  said  bluntly. 
"  We  have  dinner,  just  dinner.  We've  always  had 
dinner." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  began  in  her  persistently  pleas 
ant  way ;  "  people  do  very  often,  in  New  England." 

I  couldn't  bear  her  unruffled  composure. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  bound  to  shock  her,  "  it  isn't  because 
we're  New  England.  It's  because  we're  plain,  plain 
people.  The  rich  families  in  New  England  as  well 
as  anywhere,  have  dinner  at  night.  But  we,"  I  said, 
glorying  in  every  word,  "  are  not  one  of  the  rich 
families.  We  have  doughnuts  for  breakfast,  baked 
beans  and  brown  bread  Saturday  nights,  and  Satur 
day  noons  a  boiled  dinner.  We  love  pie.  We  all  just 
love  it.  Father  came  from  a  farm  in  Vermont.  He 
didn't  have  any  money  at  all  when  he  started  in.  You 
see  we're  common  people.  And  so's  Tom.  Tom 
comes  from  just  a  common,  common,  common 
family,"  I  said,  loving  to  repeat  the  word. 

She  was  sitting  with  her  arm  thrown  carelessly 
Over  the  back  of  the  chair,  and  her  gaze  way  out  of 


28 

the  west  window.  When  I  stopped  to  see  what  effect 
my  words  had  had  she  just  laughed  —  a  quiet  pleased 
laugh  —  and  mixed  up  with  it  I  heard  her  say,  "  Why, 
Chenery  is  the  most  uncommon  man  I  ever  met." 
And  she  blushed  like  eighteen. 

I  went  right  on. 

"  We  don't  call  him  Chenery,  either,"  I  said.  "  We 
cut  off  all  such  fringes.  He's  plain  Tom  to  us.  I 
know  how  the  plain  way  we  live  must  impress  you. 
I  know  you've  been  used  to  French  maids,  and  push- 
a-button  for  everything  you  want.  I'm  sorry  for  the 
shock  you  must  have  got  coming  here.  But  you 
might  as  well  wake  up  to  the  truth.  You  see  what 
a  mess  the  house  is  in,  and  how  Nellie  won't  call  us 
Mister  and  Miss,  and  how  if  she  is  on  the  third  floor 
and  she  wants  me  she  just  yells.  And,"  I  said,  point 
ing  out  of  the  window,  "  there  goes  Delia  now.  And 
there  isn't  a  sign  of  a  cook  left  in  the  house." 

Elise  sat  up  straight. 

"  Is  she  leaving  without  notice  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Naturally,"  I  laughed. 

"How  dreadfully  unkind  of  her!" 

"  That's  what  I  think,  but  Delia  doesn't  care  if  I 
do." 

"  Haven't  you  some  one  to  help  you  out  ?  What 
will  you  do?"  Elise  was  really  excited. 

"Do?"  I  replied  grimly.  "Oh,  I'll  duff  in  and 
cook  myself,  I  suppose." 

Elise  put  down  her  pen. 

"  I  can  make  delicious  desserts,"  she  said.  "  Can't 
you  telephone  to  the  family  not  to  come  home  this 
noon?  We  can  be  ready  for  them  by  to-night.  I 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        29 

know  how  to  make  the  best  cake  you  ever  tasted  in 
your  life." 

That's  the  way  it  came  about.  I  took  her  out  into 
the  kitchen  and  didn't  try  to  cover  up  a  thing.  She 
could  see  everything  exactly  as  it  was  —  smoked 
kitchen  ceiling,  uneven  kitchen  floor,  paintless  pantry 
shelves.  She  could  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  flour 
barrel  if  she  wanted  to;  and  she  did.  Covered  with 
an  old  apron  and  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  she  was  first 
in  the  kitchen  pantry  looking  into  every  cupboard, 
drawer  or  bucket  for  powdered  sugar;  next  in  the 
fruit-closet  feeling  all  the  paper  bags,  in  search  of 
a  lemon;  then  calling  to  me  in  her  musical  voice  to 
come  here  and  taste  some  dough  to  see  if  it  needed 
anything  else;  in  the  butler's  pantry  choosing  just 
the  plate  she  wanted  for  her  cookies;  and  actually 
underneath  the  sink,  pulling  out  a  greasy  spider  for 
panouchie,  which  she  was  going  to  make  out  of  some 
lumpy  brown  sugar  she  discovered  in  a  wooden 
bucket.  I  took  grim  pleasure  in  having  her  see 
the  worst  there  was.  I  wondered  if  she  could  stand 
the  fact  that  we  didn't  own  an  ice-cream  freezer,  when 
she  suggested  ice-cream  for  dessert,  nor  possess  a 
drop  of  olive  oil  for  her  mayonnaise.  I  didn't  care. 
I  liked  telling  her  the  things  we  didn't  have.  When 
I  heard  her  burst  into  laughter  in  the  butler's  pantry,, 
and  pushing  open  the  swinging-door,  saw  her  gazing 
at  my  set  of  rules  tacked  up  over  the  sink  for  Nellie, 
I  made  no  explanation  whatsoever.  I  was  delighted 
to  have  her  read  them.  At  sight  of  me  she  went 
off  into  regular  peals. 

Finally   she   gasped,   with   her   finger   on    Rule   6, 


30        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  She  put  —  the  ice  —  in  a  hunk,  in  the  big  pitcher 
in  the  wash-bowl ! "  and  the  tears  ran  down  her 
cheeks. 

I  laughed  a  little  then  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  Nellie's  an  old  fool,"  I  said  and  went  back  to  my 
work. 

It  happened  that  Father  and  Alec  had  gone  to  Bos 
ton  for  the  day  on  business,  and  the  last  minute  Tom 
had  joined  them,  so  the  men  wouldn't  be  home  until 
night  anyhow.  I  called  up  the  twins,  just  before 
their  fifth-hour  period  (I  had  cut  school  myself)  and 
told  them  to  get  a  bite  to  eat  at  the  high  school  lunch- 
counter.  "  I'll  pay  for  it,"  I  assured  them,  for  I  knew, 
the  twins  would  jump  at  the  chance  of  a  free  spread, 
and  as  they  had  manual-training  that  afternoon,  Elise 
and  I  were  safe  from  any  interruption  from  the  male 
section. 

We  had  supper  at  half -past  six  as  usual.  It  was 
very  queer  about  that  meal.  The  awful  strain  we 
had  all  felt  the  same  day  at  breakfast  had  suddenly 
disappeared.  Elise  had  suggested  that  we  shouldn't 
tell  any  one  of  Delia's  departure,  and  on  the  outside 
everything  was  just  as  it  was  in  the  morning,  even  to 
Nellie's  ridiculous  cap. 

"  These  biscuits  are  good,  Lucy,"  Father  said  sud 
denly,  as  he  reached  for  the  plate.  Father  usually 
speaks  of  the  food,  but  he  hadn't  done  so  once  since 
Elise  had  come. 

"  There's  more  in  the  kitchen,"  announced  Nellie 
blandly. 

"  There's  a  whole  panful,"  added  Elise.  "  I'm 
awfully  glad  you  like  them ! "  she  exclaimed  and  then 
stopped  short. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        31 

"  There,"  I  said,  "  I  knew  you'd  let  the  cat  out. 
Elise  made  them ! "  I  announced. 

"  Delia's  left  —  "  Elise  hurried  to  say. 

"And  we  —  "  I  put  in. 

"  We  got  supper ! "  she  finished  proudly. 

"  You  and  Bobbie  ?  "  exclaimed  Alec. 

"  Bobbie  and  you?"  gasped  Tom. 

"Of  course!"  she  said.  "Bobbie  scallopped  the 
Oysters." 

"  Give  me  some  more,"  said  Malcolm. 

"  Fling  over  the  last  biscuit,"  sang  out  Oliver. 
And  in  a  flash  Elise  picked  up  the  little  brown  ball 
and  tossed  it  across  the  fern-dish  straight  as  an  ar 
row. 

"  Good  shot ! "  said  Oliver,  catching  it  in  both 
hands. 

"  Oh,"  piped  up  Ruthie,  "  make  Malcolm  stop.  He 
took  a  cookie  and  it  isn't  time  for  them." 

Father  just  chuckled,  and  said,  "  Pretty  good ! 
pretty  good !  "  And  I  tell  you  it  was  simply  glorious 
to  be  natural  again! 

"  Don't  eat  too  much,"  said  Elise,  "  for  dessert's 
coming  and  it's  awfully  good." 

"  And  chocolate  layer-cake  with  it !  "  said  I. 

"Oh,  bully!"  shouted  Malcolm  and  Oliver  to 
gether. 

"  Say,"  asked  Alec,  "  isn't  this  a  good  deal  better 
than  last  night  when  Nellie's  cap  fell  into  your  but 
ter?" 

We  all  burst  into  sudden  laughter  and  Nellie, 
-who  was  filling  the  glasses,  had  to  set  down  the 
pitcher.  She  was  shaking  with  mirth.  We  laughed 
until  it  hurt;  we  simply  roared;  and  suddenly 


32        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Elise  gasped,  when  she  was  able  to  get  her  breath: 

"  Wasn't  it  funny?  I  was  so  frightened  by  you  all 
then,  I  didn't  know  what  to  say  about  that  old  cap. 
But  now  —  O  dear !  "  and  suddenly  she  turned  to 
Ruth  who  sat  next  to  her,  put  her  arms  around  her 
and  kissed  her.  "  Oh,  Ruthie,"  she  exclaimed,  "  isn't 
it  nice  to  know  them  all ! "  And  I  couldn't  tell 
whether  the  tears  in  her  eyes  were  from  laughing  or 
crying. 

;We  stayed  up  late  that  night. 

"  Run  and  get  my  slippers,"  said  Father  to  Ruth 
after  supper;  and  all  the  evening  he  lay  back  in  his 
chair  and  watched  us  children  while  we  sang  college 
songs  to  Elise's  ripping  accompaniment;  and  poked 
fun  at  the  twins  because  they'd  just  bought  their  first 
derbies.  It  was  eleven-thirty  when  we  went  up  to 
bed. 

"  Come  here  a  minute,  Bobbie,"  whispered  Elise 
to  me,  and  I  went  into  the  guest-room.  "  Do  un 
hook  the  back  of  this  dress."  When  I  had  finished 
she  said,  "  I'll  be  down  at  six-thirty "  (we  were 
going  to  get  breakfast  too),  "and  don't  you  dare  to 
be  late!  I'm  going  to  make  the  omelet.  You  can 
make  the  johnny-cake.  Bobbie,  isn't  it  nice  Delia 
left?"  And  she  kissed  me  as  well  as  Ruth. 
I  That  night  the  boys  all  gathered  in  my  room  again. 
I  wrapped  up  in  the  down  comforter,  and  we  were 
just  beginning  to  talk  when  Tom  appeared. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  smiling  all  over.  He  came  in 
and  closed  the  door.  "  Well,"  he  asked,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  her?"  And  I  knew  he  asked  us  be 
cause  he  so  well  knew  what  we  did  think.  But  just 
the  same  I  wanted  to  tell  him. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        33 

I  shot  out  my  bare  skinny  arm  at  him. 

"Tom,"  I  said,  "  I  think  she's  a  corker! " 

He  first  took  my  hand  and  then  suddenly,  very 
unlike  the  Vars,  he  put  both  arms  around  me  tight. 

"  Bobbie,"  he  said  in  a  kind  of  choked  voice, 
"you're  a  little  brick!" 

And,  my  goodness,  I  just  had  to  kiss  Tom  then! 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  has  been  nearly  a  whole  year  since  I  have  writ 
ten  in  this  book  of  mine.  I've  been  too  dis 
couraged  and  heart-sick  even  to  drag  myself  up  here 
into  my  cupola.  I've  aged  dreadfully.  I've  been  dis 
illusioned  of  all  the  hopes  and  dreams  I  ever  had  in 
my  life.  I've  skipped  that  happy  period  called  girl 
hood,  skipped  it  entirely,  and  I  had  hoped  awfully 
to  go  to  at  least  one  college  football  game  before  I 
was  grey.  I  am  sitting  in  my  study.  It  is  a  lovely 
day  in  spring.  There  are  white  clouds  in  the  sky, 
young  robins  in  the  wild  cherry,  but  my  youth,  my 
schooldays,  my  aspirations  are  all  over  and  gone. 

Miss  Wood  said  to  me  one  day  last  winter  —  Miss 
Wood  is  my  Sunday-school  teacher  and  was  trying 
to  be  kind  — "  You  know,  Lucy,  it  is  a  law  of  the 
universe  for  us  all  to  have  a  certain  amount  of  trouble 
before  we  die.  Some  have  it  early,  some  late.  Now 
you,  dear,  are  having  your  misfortunes  when  you  are 
young.  Just  think,  later  they  will  all  be  out  of  your 
way."  Miss  Wood  hasn't  had  a  bit  of  her  share  of 
trouble  yet.  Why,  she  has  a  mother,  a  father,  a 
fiance,  and  a  bunch  of  violets  every  Sunday.  She  has 
perfectly  lovely  clothes,  a  coachman  to  drive  her 
around,  and  was  president  of  her  class  her  senior 
year  in  college.  Such  blessings  won't  be  half  as  nice, 
and  Miss  Wood  knows  it,  when  I'm  old  and  grey. 
I  just  simply  hate  having  all  my  troubles  dealt  out 
to  me  before  my  skirts  touch  the  ground. 

34 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        35 

Our  minister  said  to  me  that  misfortune  is  the 
greatest  builder  of  character  in  the  world.  Well, 
it  hasn't  worked  that  way  with  me.  I'm  hot-tem 
pered  and  have  an  unruly  tongue;  I  don't  love  a  soul 
except  my  brother  Alec;  and  the  only  friend  I  have 
in  the  world  is  Juliet  Adams.  I'm  not  even  a  genius 
—  I've  discovered  that  —  and  my  religious  beliefs 
are  dreadfully  unsettled.  Years  ago  I  used  to  lie 
awake  at  night  and  imagine  myself  in  deep  sorrow. 
I  was  always  calm  and  sweet  and  dignified  then,  beau 
tiful  and  stately  in  my  clinging  black,  and  near  me 
always  was  a  young  man,  a  strong,  handsome,  clean 
shaven  young  man  in  riding  clothes  (I  adore  men  in 
riding  clothes)  and  I  used  to  play  that  this  man  was 
the  son  of  the  governor  of  the  state.  Strange  as  it 
might  seem,  he  was  in  love  with  me  and  when  my 
entire  family  had  suddenly  been  killed  in  a  railroad 
accident  —  I  always  had  them  all  die  —  this  man 
came  to  me  in  my  lonely  house  and  told  me  of  his  de 
votion.  It  really  made  sorrow  beautiful.  But  let  me 
state  right  here  that  that  was  one  of  the  many  empty 
dreams  of  my  youth.  When  misfortune  did  swoop 
down  upon  me,  I  was  not  sweet  and  lovely,  there  was 
no  man  within  a  hundred  miles  to  understand  and 
sympathise,  there  was  nothing  beautiful  about  it.  It 
\\vas  just  plain  hard  and  bitter.  It's  only  in  books 
'that  trouble  is  romantic. 

Elise  visited  us  in  the  spring  a  year  ago  about  this 
time  (it  seems  like  a  century  to  me)  and  my  misfor 
tunes  began  to  pour  in  the  following  fall,  when  I 
was  a  senior,  and  seventeen  years  old.  That  last  year 
of  high  school  had  started  in  to  be  a  very  happy  one 
for  me.  Father  had  finally  allowed  me  to  go  to 


36        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

dancing-school ;  mathematics   was   a   bugbear   of  the 
past;  and  our  basket-ball  team  was  a  perfect  winner. 

I  loved  dancing-school.  It  came  every  Saturday 
night  from  eight  to  ten,  and  Juliet  Adams  used  to  call 
for  me  in  her  closed  carriage  and  drop  me  afterwards 
at  my  door.  I  remember  that  on  that  last  Saturday 
night  I  was  particularly  full  of  good-feeling,  for  I 
kissed  Juliet  good-bye  —  a  thing  I  seldom  do  —  and 
called  back  to  her  as  I  ran  up  the  steps,  "  Good-night. 
See  you  at  Church."  I  was  never  so  unsuspecting 
in  my  life  as  I  opened  the  front  door.  But  the  in 
stant  I  got  inside  the  house  and  looked  into  the  sit 
ting-room,  I  knew  something  was  wrong.  The  en 
tire  family  was  all  sitting  about  the  room  doing  ab 
solutely  nothing.  Father  was  not  at  his  roll-top  desk ; 
the  twins  were  not  drawn  up  to  the  'centre  table  study 
ing  by  the  student-lamp;  Alec  was  not  out  making 
his  Saturday  night  call;  and,  strangest  of  all,  Ruthie 
was  not  in  bed. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked. 

"  Take  your  things  off  and  come  in,  Lucy,"  said 
Father. 

I  didn't  stir.  My  heart  stood  dead  still  for  an  in 
stant.  I  grabbed  hold  of  the  portiere. 

"  Something  has  happened  to  Tom,"  I  gasped,  so 
sure  I  didn't  even  have  to  ask. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  horribly  frightened, 
for  one  of  the  twins  blurted  out,  in  the  twins'  frank 
brutal  way,  "  Oh,  say,  don't  get  so  everlastingly  ex 
cited.  Tom's  all  right,  for  all  we  know.  So's  every 
one  else.  Do  cool  off." 

Ruthie  giggled.  She  always  giggles  at  the  twins, 
and  I  knew  then  that  my  sudden  fear  had  been  for 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        37 

nothing.     The   angry   colour   rushed   into   my   face. 

"  Smarties !  "  I  flung  back  at  the  twins  with  all  my 
might. 

"  Oh,  Lucy !  "  I  heard  Father  murmur,  and  I  saw 
Alec  drop  his  eyes  as  if  he  were  ashamed  of  such 
an  outburst  from  his  seventeen-year-old  sister. 

"  I  don't  care,"  I  went  on.  "  Why  do  you  want  to 
frighten  me  to  death?  What's  the  matter  with  you 
all,  anyway?  What  are  you  all  doing?  Why  isn't 
Ruthie  in  bed  ?  Why  are  the  twins  — : 

"It's  all  about  you!"  Malcolm  interrupted  in  a 
sort  of  triumphant  manner. 

"Me!"  I  gasped.     "What  in  thunder—" 

"  Oh,  Lucy !  "  Father  again  murmured. 

"  Well,  what,"  I  continued,  "  have  you  all  been 
saying  about  me?"  And  I  sat  down  on  the  piano- 
stool. 

Father  cleared  his  throat  the  way  he  does  before 
he  asks  the  blessing,  and  every  one  else  was  quiet. 
I  knew  something  important  was  coming. 

"  Lucy/'  Father  said,  "  we  think  the  time  has  come 
for  you  to  go  to  boarding-school." 

It  hit  me  like  a  hard  baseball  and  I  couldn't  have 
spoken  if  I  were  to  have  died. 

Father  went  on  in  his  sure,  unfaltering  way. 

"  I  have  been  considering  it  for  some  little  while, 
and  now  as  I  talk  it  over  with  the  others  —  we  al 
ways  do  that,  you  know  —  I  am  more  convinced  of 
the  wisdom  of  such  a  step  than  ever.  Alec  has  been 
doing  some  investigating,  and  Elise  suggested  in  her 
last  letter  that  Miss  Brown's-on-the-Hudson  is  an  ex 
cellent  school.  I  have,  therefore,  communicated  with 
Miss  Brown  and  a  telegram  announces  to  me  to-day 


38        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

that  a  vacancy  allows  her  to  accept  you,  late  as  it  is. 
Before  worrying  you  unnecessarily,  I  have  made  all 
arrangements.  I  have  written  to  Aunt  Sarah,  and 
she  is  willing  to  come  and  take  your  place  here.  So, 
my  dear  child,  I  am  only  waiting  now  for  your  care 
ful  and  womanly  consideration."  I  think  he  must 
have  seen  the  horror  on  my  face,  for  he  added  gently, 
"  You  needn't  decide  to-night,  Lucy.  Think  it  over 
and  in  the  morning  your  duty  will  seem  clear  to 
you." 

I  have  heard  of  people  whose  hair  grows  grey  in 
a  single  night.  It's  a  wonder  mine  didn't  turn  snow- 
white  during  that  single  speech.  Boarding-school  had 
never  been  intimated  to  me  before.  I  had  been  away 
from  home  for  over  night  only  twice  in  my  life,  and 
then  stayed  only  a  week.  Both  times  I  had  almost 
died  of  homesickness.  I  would  as  soon  be  sentenced 
to  prison  or  to  death.  Oh,  I  didn't  want  to  go  away ! 
I  didn't  want  to!  The  silence  after  Father  finished 
was  awful.  One  of  the  twins  broke  it. 

"When  Father  told  us  about  this  to-night,"  Mal 
colm  began  importantly,  "  we  thought  he  was  dead 
right.  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  we  want  our  sister 
to  be  as  nice  as  any  other  fellow's  sister." 

"  Don't  you  '  sister '  me"  I  managed  to  murmur, 
for  I  wasn't  going  to  be  patronised  by  the  twins  who 
are  a  year  younger  than  I  am. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  said  Oliver,  the  crueller  one  of 
the  twins,  "  you  haven't  got  the  right  hang  of  fixing 
yourself  up  yet.  You  go  round  with  tomboys  like 
Juliet  Adams,  and  some  others  I  might  mention,  that 
fellows  haven't  any  use  for.  High  school  is  all  right 
for  us,  but,  no  siree,  not  for  you.  Some  girls  get  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        39 

knack  all  right  at  home;  but  look  at  yourself  now! 
,You  wouldn't  think  a  girl  of  seventeen  would  twist 
her  feet  around  a  piano-stool  like  that !  "  I  twisted 
them  tighter.  "Even  Toots"  (that's  Ruthie),  he 
went  on,  "  seems  to  carry  herself  more  like  a  young 
lady." 

Ruth  giggled  at  Oliver's  last  remark  and  I  came 
back  to  life. 

"  I  may  be  plain  and  awkward  and  gawky,"  I  be 
gan,  "  and  as  homely  as  a  hedge  fence,  but  let  me 
tell  you  two  children,  if  I  spent  my  time  primping 
before  the  glass,  and  mincing  up  and  down  the  street 
Saturday  afternoons  before  Brimmer's  drug-store  like 
your  precious  Elsie  Barnard,"  I  fired,  looking  straight 
at  Malcolm  and  bringing  the  colour  to  his  face,  for 
he  was  awfully  gone  on  Elsie,  "  or  Doris  Abbott, 
Mister  Oliver,"  I  added,  and  Oliver  flushed  brilliant 
red,  "  you  two  wouldn't  have  any  stockings  mended 
or  any  buttons  on  your  coats  or  any  lessons  either, 
for  you  know  without  me  to  explain  every  little  thing 
you  are  awful  dunces!" 

Father  said,  "  Oh,  come,  Lucy,  let  us  not  quarrel ;" 
Ruth  went  over  and  sat  on  the  arm  of  Oliver's  chair 
(she  always  sides  with  the  twins)  ;  and  my  older 
brother  Alec  just  looked  hard  at  his  magazine. 

There  was  a  long  silence  and  then  I  got  up  and 
walked  over  to  Alec.  I  took  the  magazine  out  of  his 
hand.  I  was  calm  now. 

"  Alec,  what  do  you  think  about  my  going  away?" 
I  said. 

He  looked  up  and  smiled  his  kind,  tired  smile  at 
me.  Then  he  took  my  hand  but  I  drew  it  away 
quickly,  turned  and  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  the 


40        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Morris-chair  in  which  he  was  sitting,  with  my  back 
square  to  him.  His  gentle  voice  came  to  me  from 
over  my  shoulder. 

"  Well,  Lucy,"  he  said,  "  you  see,  you've  been 
working  so  hard  for  us  all  here,  for  so  many  years, 
that  I  think,  too,  you've  earned  a  little  vacation. 
You've  been  such  a  splendid  mother  to  us  —  such  a 
perfect  little  housekeeper,  that  now  I'd  like  to  see  you 
less  hard-worked.  We  don't  want  to  cheat  you  of 
your  girlhood.  We  want  you  to  have  all  the  good 
times,  and  gaieties,  and  clothes,  and  things  like  that, 
that  other  girls  have." 

Ah,  yes!  I  saw  finally.  They  were  ashamed  of 
me.  Even  Alec  was  ashamed  of  me.  I  was  not  like 
other  girls.  I  was  plain  and  awkward  and  wore  ugly 
clothes.  I  wasn't  pretty.  They  wanted  to  send  me 
away  as  if  I  were  an  old  dented  spoon  to  be 
straightened  and  polished  at  the  jeweller's.  When 
Alec  paused  he  put  his  arm  over  in  front  of  me  so 
that  it  lay  in  my  lap.  At  the  touch  of  it  the  sobs 
seemed  suddenly  to  rise  up  in  my  throat,  pressing 
after  each  other  as  if  they  were  anxious  to  get  out 
into  the  air,  and  I  rose  quickly,  pushed  Alec's  arm 
away  and  left  the  room.  They  mustn't  see  —  oh, 
no,  they  mustn't  see  me  cry!  I  meant  to  go  to  my 
bedroom  and  have  it  out  by  myself,  but  instead  I 
rushed  to  the  kitchen  and  buried  my  face  for  a  minute 
in  the  roller-towel.  Then  before  I  let  myself  give 
way,  I  drew  the  dipper  full  of  cold  water  and  swal 
lowed  those  sobs  back,  forcing  them  with  the  strength 
of  Samson.  You  see  I  knew  my  sudden  exit  would 
leave  an  uncomfortable  sensation  in  the  room  back 
there,  and  I  wouldn't  have  had  one  of  them  think  I 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER   41 

was  emotional  for  anything.  So  after  a  minute  I 
went  back.  They  could  see  for  themselves  that  there 
wasn't  a  tear  in  sight.  Standing  in  the  doorway,  fac 
ing  them  all,  this  is  what  I  said,  my  voice  as  hard  as 
metal. 

"  Father,  I  shall  be  packed,  and  ready  to  go  on 
Monday  morning." 

When  I  closed  the  door  to  my  room  that  night  I 
did  not  cry,  although  my  throat  ached  with  wanting 
to.  As  I  drew  my  curtain  and  looked  out  into  the 
dark  night  I  thought  of  Juliet  Adams,  sleeping  peace 
fully  like  a  child,  and  I  realised  how  little  she  knew 
of  sorrow.  When  the  big  clock  in  the  hall  struck 
twelve  I  was  kneeling  before  my  bureau,  stacking  my 
underclothes  in  neat  little  piles  ready  for  my  trunk. 
How  little  I  knew  that  what  I  then  thought  my  pretty 
ninety-eight-cent  nightgowns,  long-sleeved  and  high- 
necked,  would  about  die  of  shame  for  their  plainness, 
before  the  beautiful  lace  and  French  hand-embroidered 
lingerie  represented  at  midnight  spreads  at  school. 
I'm  glad  I  didn't  know  then  that  I  would  come  to  de 
spise  my  poor  faithful  clothes. 

I  was  piling  my  gloves  into  a  box  when  there  came 
a  soft  knock  at  the  door.  Alec  came  in,  in  his  red 
and  grey  bath-towel  bath-robe. 

"  Not  in  bed  yet?"  he  said  gently,  and  came  over 
and  sat  down  near  me  on  the  floor  with  his  back 
against  the  wall,  his  knees  drawn  up  almost  to  his 
chin  and  his  arms  clasped  about  them.  We  sat  there 
for  a  moment  silently,  and  I  grimly  folded  gloves. 
Then,  "  Good  stuff,  Bobbie,"  he  said  finally  —  and 
oh,  so  kindly  —  "  Good  nerve." 

I  turned  and  looked  straight  at  him. 


42        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  No,  Alec,"  I  said,  "  there  isn't  anything-  good 
about  it.  It's  horrid  feelings  and  hate  that  make  me 

go." 

He  looked  away  from  me  as  he  always  does  when 
he  disapproves,  but  he  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  I  was  grateful  for  that  touch. 

I  turned  on  him  frantically  and  burst  out,  "  Alec 
Vars,  you  are  the  only  one  in  this  whole  house  I 
love  —  you  and  Father,"  I  amended,  for  we  all  adore 
Father.  "  You're  the  only  one  who  is  kind  or  thought 
ful.  I've  tried  to  do  my  duty  in  this  place  by  you 
and  the  others,  but  I  guess  I  haven't  succeeded. 
Now  I'm  going  away  and  we'll  see  how  the  twins  en 
joy  a  dose  of  Aunt  Sarah."  I  paused,  then  added, 
"  Look  here,  Alec,  don't  let  Ruth  go  out  to  the 
Country  Club.  She  is  pretty  and  the  older  men  — 
why,  your  friends  talk  to  her  and  make  her  vain 
and  hold  her  on  the  arms  of  their  chairs.  Don't  let 
her  go.  And  the  twins  —  I  haven't  told  on  them 
yet  —  but  they're  smoking!  They're  dead  scared  for 
fear  I'll  tell  Father,  and  I  said  that  I  should  if  I 
caught  them  at  it  again." 

"  Good  Bobbie,  you'd  keep  us  straight  if  you  could, 
wouldn't  you?  " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  I  flared  back.  "  It's  hate  I  feel 
and  — " 

Alec  put  his  hand  over  my  mouth. 

"  What  shall  I  do  to  you  ?  "  he  laughed. 

I  rose  abruptly,  crossed  the  room  and  closed  the 
window  at  my  back.  There  was  a  big  lump  in  my 
throat  and  I  stopped  at  the  marble  wash-stand  built 
into  one  corner  of  my  room,  and  took  a  drink  of 
water.  Then  I  went  back  to  my  glove-sorting. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        43 

Finally  I  was  able  to  ask,  "Alec,  were  you  at  the 
bottom  of  this?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  smiled.  "  Possibly  —  I 
—  or  Will  Maynard." 

"  Will  Maynard !  "  I  exclaimed.  Dr.  Maynard  is  a 
physician  in  our  town,  and  was  a  classmate  of  Alec's 
years  ago  in  college.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with 
me. 

Alec  picked  up  one  of  my  gloves  and  began  turn 
ing  it  right-side-out,  as  he  explained. 

"  We  dropped  into  Grand  Army  Hall  one  after 
noon  a  week  or  so  ago  when  you  were  playing  a 
basket-ball  game.  I'd  never  seen  you  play  before. 
We  stayed  for  a  half  an  hour  or  more.  Going  home 
Will  said  to  me,  *  Why  don't  you  send  that  little  wild 
cat  sister  of  yours  away  to  school? '  I  began  to  mull 
it  over.  Of  course,  Bobbie,  old  girl,"  Alec  went  on, 
"  I  admire  your  pluck  and  spirit  in  basket-ball.  I 
like  to  see  you  win  whatever  you  set  out  to.  You 
played  a  fine  game  —  a  bully  fine  game ;  but  there  are 
other  things  in  life  to  acquire  —  other  kinds  of  things, 
Bobbikins."  He  stopped.  "  Oh,  you'll  like  board 
ing-school,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  like  Dr.  Maynard  not  to  butt  into  my  affairs," 
I  replied  under  my  breath ;  then  I  remarked,  "  I'm 
ready  for  that  glove,  please." 

Alec  passed  it  over  and  got  up. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,"  he 
added,  "  here  is  something  you  may  find  a  use  for. 
Your  tuition  and  board,  of  course,  will  be  paid 
for  by  Father,  but  I  know  there  are  a  lot  of 
extras  —  girl's  things  —  that  you'll  need.  Possibly 
this  will  help."  He  dropped  a  piece  of  paper  into 


44        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

my    lap    and    was    gone    before    I    could    look    up. 

I  unfolded  the  paper  and  saw  a  check  dancing  be 
fore  my  eyes  for  one  hundred  dollars!  I  knew  very 
well  that  we  were  as  poor  as  paupers  in  spite  of  our 
big  house,  and  stable,  as  empty  now  as  a  shell.  I 
,  knew  Father's  business  was  about  as  lifeless  as  the 
stable,  and  that  Alec  alone  stood  by  him  trying  to  give 
a  little  encouragement.  Splendid  Alec!  I  fled  after 
him.  He  was  just  groping  his  way  up  the  stairs  to  his 
third-floor  room.  I  caught  him  and  very  unlike  my 
even  temperament  put  my  arms  around  him  tight. 

"  O  Alec,"  I  blubbered,  "  it  isn't  because  of  the 
money;  it's  because  of  you."  Then  I  added,  like  a 
great  idiot,  "  Oh,  I  will  try  not  to  be  such  a  tomboy ! 
I  will  try  to  be  worth  something  when  I'm  away,  and 
all  the  things  you  want  me  to  be."  And  then  because 
I  hated  to  pose  as  any  kind  of  an  angel,  I  turned,  fled 
back  to  my  room  and  locked  the  door. 

I  made  a  great  impression  with  my  announcement 
the  next  day  in  Sunday-school.  Juliet  could  hardly 
believe  me.  She  stared  at  me  as  open-eyed  and  awe 
struck  as  if  I  had  told  her  I  was  going  to  China.  She 
wouldn't  sing  the  hymns,  and  during  the  long  prayer 
she  whispered  to  me :  "  You'll  be  going  to  Spreads !  " 
And  later :  "  You'll  have  a  Room-mate ! "  And  again : 
"  Perhaps  you'll  be  invited  to  House-parties !  " 

If  I  were  about  to  be  hanged  it  would  be  little 
comfort  to  me  to  be  told  that  in  a  few  hours  I  would 
be  playing  on  harps,  walking  streets  of  gold  and  wear 
ing  wings.  I  didn't  want  to  go  away  —  that  was  the 
plain  truth.  I  preferred  Intelligence-Offices  to  board 
ing-schools;  I  preferred  our  big  brown  ugly  old 
house,  empty  stable,  out-of-date  carriages,  cruel  twins, 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        45 

and  uncuddleble  Ruth  to  spreads,  room-mates  and 
house-parties.  I  wanted  to  stay  at  home !  But  I 
was  bound  that  no  one  should  know  that  my  heart 
was  breaking;  I  was  determined  that  no  one  should 
guess  that  I  was  being  sent  away,  boosted  out  of  my 
position,  like  the  poor  old  minister  in  the  South  Bap 
tist  church.  I  would  go  with  my  head  up,  and  tear 
less  !  Only  once  did  I  give  way,  and  that  was  in  poor 
little  Dixie's  furry  neck  when  I  threw  my  arms  about 
him  in  his  stall.  Poor  little  dumb  Dixie !  Poor  piti 
ful  dumb  carriages  gazing  silently  at  me.  "  You'll 
miss  me.  You'll  be  sorry,"  I  said. 

On  that  last  grey  Sunday  afternoon  I  took  my 
good-bye  walk,  through  Buxton's  woods  back  of  our 
house.  I  gazed  for  the  last  time  on  the  precious 
landmarks  that  I  had  grown  to  love  —  the  two  freak 
chestnut  trees,  soldered  into  one  like  the  Siamese 
twins;  the  hollow  oak  where  we  used  to  dig  the  rich 
dark  brown  peet  and  find  the  big,  slimy  white  worms ; 
the  huge  fallen  pine,  struck  once  by  lightning,  along 
whose  trunk  and  in  among  whose  dead  branches  we 
used  to  play  "  ship "  and  "  pirate-boat."  I  walked 
alone  —  all  alone.  There  was  no  romantic  lover 
in  riding  clothes,  as  in  my  dreams,  to  share  my  sad 
reflections.  Only  a  scurrying  chipmunk  or  red  squir 
rel,  now  and  then,  gazed  at  me  with  frightened  eyes, 
then  scampered  away;  only  the  dead  leaves  under  my 
feet  kept  rhythm  with  my  dragging  steps.  I  was 
awfully  lonely  and  unhappy.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
even  the  sombre  sky  and  the  dead  quietness  of  Sun 
day  connived  to  add  to  my  dreariness. 

When  I  reached  our  iron  gate  on  my  return,  it  was 
nearly  dark.  Dr.  Maynard  was  just  coming  away 


46        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

from  one  of  his  frequent  Sunday  afternoons  witK 
Alec  and  I  met  him  by  the  fountain. 

"  Hello,  little  Wild-cat,"  he  sang  out  cheerily.  He 
always  has  called  me  Wild-cat,  though  I  never  knew 
why.  "  Back  from  one  of  your  walks  '  all  by  your 
lone'  ?  "  I  think  he  copied  that  from  Kipling.  "  Ears 
been  burning?  Al  and  I  have  just  been  talking  about 
you." 

I  had  never  as  much  as  peeped  in  Dr.  Maynard's 
presence  before  —  he's  fifteen  years  older  than  I — » 
but  I  couldn't  bear  his  interference  in  my  affairs  and 
I  retorted,  "  I  should  advise  you  not  to  meddle  with 
wild-cats,  Dr.  Maynard !  " 

"  Whew !  "  he  whistled  in  mock  alarm ;  and  though 
it  was  not  a  pretty  thing  for  a  girl  of  seventeen  to 
say  to  a  man  whose  hair  was  beginning  to  turn  grey, 
I  finished  hotly,  "  Or  you'll  get  scratched !  "•  and 
turned  and  dashed  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  thinking  over  my  career  at  boarding-school  I  al 
ways  recall  three  remarks  which  were  made  to  me 
in  the  smoky  Hilton  Station  as  I  waited  for  my  train. 
Father  and  Alec  and  Juliet  who,  the  dear  old  trump, 
had  actually  cut  school  to  see  me  off,  were  at  the 
station. 

Alec  had  said,  "  Go  slowly,  Bobbie,  and  know  only 
the  best  girls,"  and  I  had  replied,  pop-full  of  confi 
dence,  "  Of  course,  Alec." 

"  And  whatever  else  you  do,"  exclaimed  Juliet, 
"  don't  you  dare  to  get  a  swelled  head,  Lucy  Vars." 
"  I  won't,"  I  had  assured  her. 

Father,  dear  kind  Father,  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
had  commanded :  "  Dear  child,  discover  some  one  less 
fortunate  than  yourself  and  be  kind  to  her."  And  I 
had  promised,  tussling  with  the  painful  lump  in  my 
throat,  "  I  will,  dear  Father." 

Father  had  slipped  a  paper  bag  into  my  hand  then 
—  a  bag  of  lemon-drops  (Father  always  buys  lemon- 
drops)  and  two  sticks  of  colt's-foot.  The  poor  dear 
man  had  forgotten  that  I  didn't  like  colt's-foot,  but 
when  I  opened  the  bag  in  the  train  and  saw  those  two 
little  brown  sticks,  somehow  I  loved  dear  Father 
harder  than  ever.  I  put  them  into  my  travelling  bag 
very  tenderly,  and  have  kept  them  ever  since. 

I  don't  know  how  to  explain  my  impressions  of 
boarding-school.  I  realise  now  that  in  spite  of  the 
pain  at  leaving  home  I  did  have  buried  in  the  bottom 

47 


48        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

of  my  heart  dreams  of  the  vague,  unknown  joys  of 
room-mates  and  spreads.  Every  young  girl  has  such 
dreams,  I  guess.  Even  as  I  sped  along  in  the  train, 
trying  desperately  to  dissolve  that  lump  in  my  throat 
with  Father's  lemon-drops,  I  was  wondering  about  the 
new  bosom  friends  I  should  make.  Edith  Campbell, 
an  awfully  popular  older  girl  in  our  town  and  a  friend 
of  Alec's,  had  been  to  a  fashionable  boarding-school 
in  New  York  ever  since  she  was  a  child,  and  she  was 
forever  bringing  home  girls  to  visit  her,  or  whisking 
off  herself  to  ball-games  and  Proms  with  "  a  Room 
mate's  brother  "  or  "  a  Best-friend's  cousin."  I  could 
hardly  realise  that  I,  Lucy  Vars,  was  about  to  step 
within  the  same  fascinating  circle.  Fifty  girls  to  eat 
and  sleep  and  walk  with;  fifty  girls  to  choose  my 
friends  from;  fifty  girls  to  bring  home  with  me  for 
over  a  holiday;  fifty  girls  for  me  to  visit;  and  fifty 
girls  with  brothers  or  cousins  at  Harvard  and  Yale  and 
Princeton.  Perhaps  that  very  winter  some  college 
man  would  invite  me  to  a  Prom;  I  would  dance  till 
morning,  and  become  such  a  dazzling  belle  that  by 
Easter-time  I  would  look  upon  the  twins  as  mere 
boys.  Probably  by  summer  I  would  be  dashing  about 
to  house-parties,  and  talking  to  real  grown-up  men 
over  a  cup  of  tea  like  Dolly  in  the  "  Dolly  Dia 
logues."  Perhaps  I  would  be  president  of  my  class 
at  school,  like  Tom  at  college.  Perhaps  —  perhaps 
—  oh,  I  am  forced  to  smile  at  myself  now  as  I  look 
back  and  see  the  funny  little  short-skirted,  pig-tailed 
creature  that  I  was,  sitting  there  in  the  train,  gazing 
out  of  the  window,  building  my  absurd  little  air- 
castles  by  the  score,  on  the  very  way  to  the  destruc 
tion  of  every  dream  I  ever  had.  I  didn't  make  a 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        49 

single  friend  at  boarding-school.  I  didn't  meet  a 
man.  Here  it  is  almost  summer,  and  house-parties 
seem  as  remote  from  me  as  they  did  ten  years  ago. 
I  must  try  to  explain  why  I  made  such  a  flat  failure 
of  things.  It  isn't  a  pleasant  story,  but  here  goes : 

The  first  instant  that  I  stepped  into  that  school 
I  knew  that  I  was  a  curiosity  to  everybody  there. 
Never  shall  I  forget  that  first  evening  when  Miss 
Brown  ushered  me  into  the  big  school  dining-room  and 
seated  me  beside  her.  It  looked  like  fairy-land  to  me 
—  red  candles  on  a  dozen  little  round  tables  and  all 
the  girls  in  soft,  light  dresses  with  Dutch  necks. 
When  I  finally  dared  look  up  from  my  plate  and 
glance  round,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  such  beau 
tiful  creatures.  I  couldn't  find  a  homely  girl  among 
them ;  and  such  lovely  hair  as  they  had,  done  soft  and 
full  and  fluffy  with  large  ribbon-bows  tied  at  the  back 
of  their  necks.  The  girls  at  our  table  had  the  whitest 
hands  and  the  prettiest  soft  arms,  with  bracelets  jing 
ling  on  them. 

After  supper  Miss  Brown  seated  herself  in  a  big 
armchair  by  a  low  lamp  in  the  drawing-room  and 
read  aloud  from  "  Pride  and  Prejudice."  The  girls 
all  gathered  about  her  and  did  fancy  work  on  big 
hoops.  I  didn't  have  any  work  and  tried  to  make 
myself  comfortable  on  a  little  high  silk-brocaded 
chair.  I  felt  horribly  embarrassed.  Every  time  a 
girl  looked  up  from  her  work  and  scrutinised  me  from 
top  to  toe,  I  felt  like  saying,  "  I  know  I'm  a  perfect 
mess.  I  see  it.  I  know  my  hands  are  like  sand 
paper,  and  my  shoes  thick-soled,  and  my  dress  a  sight. 
I  know  my  hair  is  ridiculous  braided  and  bobbed  up 
with  a  black  ribbon  like  a  horse's  tail.  I  know  it." 


50        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  couldn't  listen  to  a  word  that  Miss  Brown  was  read 
ing.  I  was  awfully  disturbed  thinking  about  my 
trunk  on  its  way  to  me,  filled  with  its  queer  collec 
tion,  and  wondering  what  in  the  name  of  heaven  I 
could  put  on  the  next  night.  My  blue  cashmere 
haunted  me  like  a  bad  dream.  I  think  that  first  even 
ing  at  boarding-school  was  the  first  time  I  really 
missed  having  a  mother.  She  would  have  known  the 
blue  cashmere  was  ugly;  she  would  have  known  that 
little  bronze  slippers  with  stockings  to  match  were  the 
proper  thing;  she  would  have  known  that  girls  at 
boarding-school  wore  Dutch  necks  and  wide  ribbons 
tied  low,  at  the  back  of  their  necks.  I  simply  dreaded 
unpacking  that  pitiful  little  trunk  of  mine.  I  wished 
it  could  be  lost. 

My  room-mate's  name  was  Gabriella  Atherton,  but 
when  I  entered  the  room  which  I  was  supposed  to 
share  with  her  I  wished  she  had  been  plain  Mary 
Jane.  The  bureau  was  simply  loaded  with  silver 
things  —  silver  brushes  and  mirrors  and  powder- 
boxes,  and  at  least  three  silver  frames  with  the 
stunningest  men's  pictures  in  them  you  ever  saw. 
The  walls  were  covered  with  college  flags,  and  the 
window-seat  was  banked  with  college  sofa-cushions. 
Why,  I  didn't  know  a  single  man,  except  high  school 
boys,  great  awkward  creatures  like  the  twins.  I 
hoped  Gabriella  wouldn't  find  out  that  I  had  never 
been  to  a  college  football  game  in  my  life,  nor  been 
invited  to  one  either.  My  one  last  hope  for  consola 
tion  lay  in  the  possibility  that  Gabriella  was  older 
than  I.  I  thought  she  must  be  at  least  twenty  to  know 
so  many  men.  When  we  were  finally  alone,  getting 
ready  to  go  to  bed  I  asked  her.  My  heart  sank  when 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        51 

she  announced  that  she  was  only  sixteen.  I  know  ex 
actly  how  a  mother  feels  now  when  another  person's 
baby  born  a  month  before  hers  talks  first  and  shows 
signs  of  greater  intelligence.  I  remember  I  was 
standing  before  my  chiffonier  braiding  my  hair  for 
,the  night,  pulling  it  flat  back  as  I  always  did  and  fix 
ing  it  in  one  tight  short  little  braid,  when  Gabriella 
announced  she  was  sixteen.  Why,  she  looked  old 
enough  to  be  married,  and  I  —  I  gazed  at  my  reflec 
tion  —  I  looked  like  poor  Sarah  Carew  in  the  garret. 
No  wonder  the  family  wanted  to  send  the  old  spoon 
away  to  be  polished.  No  wonder ! 

"  One  of  the  girls,"  Gabriella  went  on  to  say,  "  has 
had  a  Box  from  home.  She's  asked  the  whole  school 
to  a  Kimono  Spread  in  her  room.  Do  you  want  to 
go?' 

A  Spread!  My  heart  leaped!  And  then  I  got  a 
glimpse  of  Gabriella  in  the  glass  before  me.  She 
was  a  vision  in  a  flowing  pink  silk  kimono  with  white 
birds  on  it.  She  had  her  hair  fluffed  up  on  top  and 
tied  with  a  wide  pink  taffeta  ribbon  —  she  actually 
slept  in  it  —  and  little  pink  shoes  on  her  feet. 

"  I  guess  I  won't  to-night,  thanks,"  I  said,  not  turn 
ing  around,  for  I  didn't  want  her  to  see  what  a  peeled 
onion  I  looked  like ;  "  the  train  made  me  car-sick." 
And  I  snapped  the  elastic  band  around  the  end  of  my 
braid. 

After  Gabriella  had  gone  I  turned  out  the  light  and 
crawled  into  the  little  brass  bed,  which  Miss  Brown 
had  said  was  mine;  but  I  didn't  go  to  sleep.  I  just 
lay  there  listening  to  the  muffled  laughter  and  chat 
ter  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  It  was  only  nine  o'clock 
and  lights  were  not  due  to  be  out  until  ten.  I  hated 


52        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

lying  there  wide  awake  and  I  kept  wondering  how  I 
could  get  dressed  in  the  morning  without  letting  my 
room-mate  see  all  my  plain  ugly  things.  Then  I  re 
membered  that  I  had  left  my  common  cheap  little 
wooden  brush,  the  shellac  all  washed  off  with  weekly 
scrubbings,  on  top  of  my  chiffonier.  I  jumped  up 
quickly  and  hid  it  in  the  top  drawer;  then  suddenly 
I  turned  on  the  light,  sat  down  in  my  horrid  red  wool 
wrapper,  and  wrote  something  like  this  to  Alec,  blub 
bering  and  dabbing  tears  all  through  it: 

"Dear  Alec, 

I'm  here  safely,  I've  met  all  the  girls  and  they  are 
perfectly  lovely.  I'm  going  to  love  it.  My  room 
mate's  name  is  Gabriella  Atherton  —  isn't  that  a  beauti 
ful  name?  —  and  she  is  a  perfect  dear!  I  can't  write 
long  for  I  am  due  at  a  spread;  so,  so-long  until  I  have 
more  time.  This  place  is  full  of  corking  girls.  They 
would,  however,  consider  the  twins  mere  babes-in-arms. 
Tell  Aunt  Sarah  that  Father  will  want  his  flannel  night 
shirts  as  soon  as  there  is  a  frost.  They  are  in  the  all- 
over  leather  trunk  in  the  storeroom.  The  girls  will  be 
wondering  where  I  am,  so  good-night. 
"  Your  enthusiastic 

"  BOBBIE." 

Then  I  went  back  to  bed  and  bawled  like  a  baby, 
until  I  heard  Gabriella  at  the  door.  Another  girl 
was  with  her  and  I  heard  her  say,  "  Good-night, 
dear,"  and  Gabriella  call  back  exactly  as  they  do  in 
books  and  as  they  did  once  in  my  dreams.  "  Good 
night,  sweetheart."  Thereupon  I  ducked  my  head 
down  underneath  the  covers  and  pretended  to  be 
asleep.  A  half-hour  later,  when  I  felt  sure  that 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        53 

Gabriella  was  dead  to  the  world,  I  opened  my  eyes 
and  lay  awake  until  almost  morning. 

But  no  one  needs  to  think  that  I  was  homesick. 
Wild  horses  couldn't  have  dragged  me  home.  I  was 
bound  to  stick  it  out  or  die  and  I  tried  not  to  be  a 
little  goose  and  cry  my  eyes  out.  That  wouldn't  help 
me  to  make  the  best  girls  my  friends  and  I  didn't 
mean  to  disappoint  Alec  if  I  could  help  it.  I  was 
there  for  business  and  I  meant  to  accomplish  it.  Alec 
had  said  he  admired  that  quality. 

But  Miss  Brown's-on-the-Hudson  was  awfully  dif 
ferent  from  the  Hilton  Classical  High  School.  They 
played  basket-ball  as  if  it  were  drop-the-handkerchief : 
there  was  no  regular  team.  We  exercised  by  walk 
ing  two  by  two  for  an  hour  every  afternoon.  There 
wasn't  the  slightest  chance  for  me  to  shine  in 
athletics. 

I  was  robbed  also  of  my  hope  of  being  a  genius. 
There  was  a  girl  who  could  write  ten  times  better 
than  I.  It  was  after  one  of  her  poems  was  read  out 
loud  in  class,  that  I  discovered  I  wasn't  gifted  in  the 
least.  She  was  the  marvel  of  the  school,  and  when 
ever  there  were  guests  she  was  asked  to  read  her 
poems  ..erself.  They  were  the  deepest  things  I  ever 
listened  - — about  the  soul,  and  sorrow,  and  "swift 
sweet  leatii.'  She  looked  like  a  genius  too.  She  had 
jet  black  air  and  wore  it  in  long  curls  tied  loosely  be 
hind,  oig  dreamy  eyes,  and  pale  transparent  skin. 
She  wasn;'  very  healthy  and  always  wore  black.  Her 
mrthe:  wr  an  artist  in  Florence,  and  Lucia  (think 
of  :^  my  name,  but  pronounced  so  differently)  Lucia 
had  always  lived  i.i  Italy  until  she  came  to  school.  I 
tell  you,  as  soon  as  I  saw  her  and  listened  to  her 


54        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

poetry,  I  was  terribly  thankful  that  I  had  never  let 
any  one  know  that  I  had  ever  thought  /  could  write. 
I  got  A  on  my  compositions,  and  A  in  everything  else, 
but  no  one  imagined  that  I  was  a  genius.  They  con 
sidered  me  just  a  plain  everyday  shark.  But  I  tried 
not  to  be  offensively  smart.  I  flunked  on  purpose' 
once  in  a  while ;  I  passed  notes  in  class  whenever  I  * 
could  find  any  one  to  pass  them  to;  I  got  so  I  could 
turn  off  a  "  darn "  as  neatly  as  any  of  them,  and 
pout  and  say  "  The  devil ! "  when  I  pricked  my  finger 
pinning  down  my  belt.  For  I  was  determined  they 
shouldn't  think  me  a  "  goody-goody  "  or  a  "  teacher's 
pet."  I  even  crocheted  a  man's  tie  and  pretended  it 
was  for  a  friend  of  mine  at  a  fashionable  preparatory 
school  in  Massachusetts.  I  went  so  far  in  my  fran 
tic  endeavours,  as  to  cut  out  from  old  magazines  all 
the  pictures  I  could  find  of  an  actor,  whom,  by  the 
way,  I  had  never  even  seen,  and  stuck  them  in  the 
corners  of  the  glass  over  my  chiffonier. 

Oh,  I  tried  to  be  like  the  other  girls.  I  knew  they 
hadn't  liked  their  first  impressions  of  me,  but  I  tried 
to  show  them  that  I  wasn't  as  queer  as  I  looked.  I 
tried  to  be  pleasant  and  accommodating;  I  tried  to  be 
patient  and  bide  my  time ;  I  tried  —  heaven  knows  I 
tried,  Alec  —  but  it  was  no  use.  From  the  start  it 
was  absolutely  no  go.  I  couldn't  make  even  the  worst, 
of  those  girls  my  friends.  I  tell  you  I  did  my  level 
best,  but  I  hadn't  the  clothes,  nor  the  silver  bureau- 
sets,  nor  the  frames,  nor  the  men's  pictures  to  put 
into  them,  nor  the  college  banners,  nor  the  mother  to 
send  me  boxes  of  food  from  home.  Those  girls 
treated  me  as  if  I  were  the  mud  under  their  feet.  If 
I  was  in  the  room,  I  might  as  well  have  been  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        55 

bed-post  for  all  the  attention  they  paid  to  me.  If  I 
was  told  to  walk  with  one  of  them  during  "  Exer 
cise,*'  that  one  was  pitied  by  the  rest.  They  looked 
upon  my  clothes  as  if  I  were  a  Syrian  or  Turk  in 
strange  costume.  I  used  to  get  hot  all  over  when 
ever  I  had  to  appear  in  a  dress  they  had  never  seen. 
And,  O  Juliet  —  good  old  loyal  Juliet  —  you  were 
afraid  I  would  be  spoiled  by  admiration!  I  simply 
have  to  chortle  with  glee  when  I  think  of  your  warn 
ing  to  your  old  chum.  A  swelled  head !  My  eyes 
got  swollen  instead,  old  Jule,  with  tears!  And 
Father  —  dear  Father  —  there  wasn't  a  single  soul 
for  me  to  be  kind  to.  /  was  the  most  miserable  one 
in  the  whole  school,  the  most  unpopular,  the  most 
iforlorn.  And  there's  the  truth  in  black  and  white. 

After  about  five  weeks  of  an  average  of  ten  in 
sults  a  day,  I  got  tired.  Too  long  a  stretch  on  the 
diet  of  humble-pie  doesn't  agree  with  me.  There's 
an  end  to  every  one's  patience.  One  day  in  late 
November  little  Japan  up  and  fought;  and  once 
started,  there  was  no  stopping  her.  You  see  the  girls 
had  gotten  into  the  habit  of  asking  me  to  help  them 
with  their  lessons.  At  first  I  was  pleased,  for  I  nat 
urally  thought  that  if  they  would  let  me  see  their 
stupid  minds,  they  would  admit  me  into  a  few  of  their 
intimacies  and  secret  affairs  —  and  oh,  I  did  long 
to  be  friends  with  them!  But  I  discovered  they  had 
no  such  intention. 

One  night  I  went  into  Beatrix  Fox's  room,  by 
appointment,  at  quarter  of  ten.  She  was  waiting  and 
ready  for  me,  but  I  could  see  the  remains  of  a  spread 
on  the  table  and  desk  —  crumbs,  nutshells,  olive- 
stones,  and  a  half-eaten  bunch  of  Tokays. 


56        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Oh,  here  you  are ! "  said  Beatrix,  and  with  no 
attempt  at  concealment,  she  went  on.  "  I've  been 
having  half  a  dozen  girls  to  a  spread,"  she  said. 
"  But  I  told  them  to  leave  one  piece  of  cake  for  you, 
Lucy.  Here  it  is.  Now  let's  get  at  the  Latin." 

I  was  awfully  insulted.  Beatrix  Fox  nor  any  one 
else  had  ever  seen  the  least  fire  or  spunk  in  Lucy  Vars 
before  that  night,  but  I  couldn't  hold  in  a  minute 
longer.  I  took  the  delicious  piece  of  chocolate  layer- 
cake  and  went  over  to  the  waste-basket.  I  threw  it 
in.  "There's  your  cake!"  Beatrix  stared  as  if  I 
had  gone  crazy.  "  There's  your  old  cake,  Beatrix 
Fox ! "  I  repeated,  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

After  that  night  I  was  a  changed  person.  I 
couldn't  be  touched  with  a  ten-yard  pole.  I  became 
a  regular  bunch  of  fire-crackers  —  spurting  and  going 
off  in  everybody's  face  and  eyes  at  the  least  spark. 
And  oh,  to  speak  out  my  mind,  and  to  spit  out  my 
feelings  at  last,  was  simply  glorious!  It  was  like 
getting  the  rubber-dam  off  your  tooth  after  a  three 
hours'  sitting  at  the  dentist's.  After  that  experience 
with  Beatrix,  there  was  no  more  Cicero  translated  nor 
French  sentences  corrected  by  Lucy  Vars  for  a  single 
one  of  those  stupid-minded,  rattle-brained  young 
ladies.  I  made  a  notice  on  pasteboard  in  black  ink 
and  hung  it  on  my  door.  It  read :  "  A  PUBLIC  TUTOR 

CAN  BE  OBTAINED  FROM  MlSS  BROWN.       DON'T  APPLY 

HERE!  LUCY  CHENERY  VARS/'  The  girls  thought 
the  sign  was  perfectly  horrid  and  I  was  glad  of  it. 
I  wanted  to  be  horrid.  I  revelled  in  it.  I  wanted 
to  be  horrid  to  everybody  who  had  been  horrid  to 
me. 

Once  during  "  Written  Exercise,"  I  wrote  a  whole 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER    57 

page  of  Latin  Composition  wrong,  so  that  little  cheat 
ing  snobblish  Barbara  Porter  next  to  me  might  copy 
it  off  on  her  paper  and  pass  it  in.  At  the  bottom  of 
my  sheet  I  wrote,  "  I've  made  these  mistakes  on  pur 
pose.  You  may  give  me  zero."  Miss  Brown,  in  a 
long  talk  in  her  private  office,  told  me  it  was  not  a 
kind  thing  for  me  to  do.  But  I  didn't  care.  I  had 
let  Barbara  Porter  copy  my  Latin  Comp  for  five 
weeks  without  a  murmur,  and  she  had  never  put  her 
self  out  to  be  kind  to  me.  I  wasn't  going  to  be  any 
body's  door-mat! 

At  Thanksgiving  all  the  girls  "  double  up,"  which 
means  that  the  ones  who  live  far  away  spend  the  holi 
day  with  the  ones  who  live  near.  Of  course  no  one 
wanted  me.  Gabriella,  who  at  times  tried  to  be  nice 
to  me,  felt  conscience-stricken,  I  suppose,  for  she  said 
to  me  one  day  when  we  were  dressing,  "  It's  too  bad 
you're  going  to  be  here  alone,  Lucy.  Don't  you  sup 
pose  Miss  Brown  would  let  you  to  come  down  to 
East  Orange"  (Gabriella  lived  in  East  Orange,  New 
Jersey)  "and  eat  Thanksgiving  dinner  with  us?" 

I  replied  maliciously,  "  Why,  I'm  sure  Miss  Brown 
would  let  me  spend  the  entire  three  days  with  you, 
Gabriella." 

Gabriella  hedged  then,  as  I  knew  she  would.  "  Oh, 
I'm  so  sorry.  I'm  taking  Grace  and  Barbara  home 
with  me,  and  there's  a  dance  I  do  want  to  go  to  — 
and  —  if  you — " 

"  O  Gabriella,"  I  broke  in,  "  don't  be  alarmed.  I 
shan't  burden  you  for  one  little  tiny  minute.  I  just 
wanted  to  frighten  you.  I  wouldn't  give  your  friends 
at  home  such  a  shock  as  the  sight  of  me  would  be,  for 
anything  in  the  world.  I  shall  enjoy,  on  the  other 


58        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

hand,  the  quiet  of  this  room  after  my  charming  room 
mate  has  departed." 

That's  the  way  I  talked  but  I  wrote  home :  "  Ga- 
briella  wants  me  awfully  to  spend  Thanksgiving  with 
her.  There  is  a  dance  and  all  sorts  of  plans,  but  in 
spite  of  all  her  urging  I've  refused.  There's  quite  a 
bunch  of  us  staying  here  "  (the  bunch  were  teachers), 
"  and  jolly  spreads  and  sprees  in  store." 

I  didn't  want  my  family  to  know  —  kind  Alec,  the 
arrogant  twins,  pretty  Ruth,  and  Father  who  used  to 
be  so  proud  of  me  —  I  didn't  want  them  to  know  what 
a  poor  little  Cinderella  I  was.  When  I  went  home  I 
wanted  every  one  to  think  I  had  had  a  glorious  time 
at  school,  as  all  girls  do.  I  wanted  my  family  to  open 
their  eyes  and  say,  "  My,  how  you're  changed !  "  and 
every  one  at  church  to  whisper  when  I  came  in  a  little 
late,  "  There's  Lucy  Vars  home !  Hasn't  she  grown 
up  ?  "  I  wanted  Dr.  Maynard  to  raise  his  hat  to  me 
when  he  met  me  on  the  street,  and  call  me  Miss  Vars. 
I  wanted  Juliet  to  gaze  at  me  with  envy.  If  there 
was  any  real  silver  underneath  the  tarnish  on  me  I 
was  bound  it  should  shine  when  I  went  home  at 
Christmas.  And  so  it  happened  that  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  if  I  couldn't  make  friends  with  my  new 
schoolmates  I  could  at  least  learn  something  from 
them.  I  used  to  observe  them  very  carefully  and 
jot  down  important  points  in  my  memory.  Even  the 
things  that  I  derided  to  their  faces,  I  meant  to  copy 
when  I  went  home.  My  brain  became  a  regular  copy 
book  of  rules. 

"  My  skirts,"  I  recorded,  "  should  be  below  my 
shoe-tops,  not  above. 

"  The  way  to  keep  a  waist  down,  is  to  fasten  it  with 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        59 

a  safety-pin  behind  and  a  long  black  steel  pin  in  front. 

"  My  nails  should  be  as  shining  as  a  dinner-plate. 

"  A  shining  face  is  not  supposed  to  be  pretty. 

"  Powder  is  used  to  remove  shine,  and  isn't  wicked 
like  rouge. 

"  Girls  of  seventeen  use  hairpins  and  rats,  and  keep 
their  hats  on  with  hatpins  instead  of  elastics. 

"  Mohair  and  gingham  underskirts  and  Ferris 
waists  are  not  worn  by  girls  of  seventeen. 

"  Huge  taffeta  bows  underneath  the  chin,  on  the 
hair,  or  anywhere  in  fact,  is  the  rubber-stamp  for 
a  girl  of  my  age. 

"  Automobiles,  actors,  college  football,  and  allow 
ances  are  popular  subjects  for  conversation. 

"  Don't  break  crackers  into  your  soup. 

"  Don't  butter  a  whole  slice  of  bread. 

"Don't  cut  up  all  your  meat  before  beginning  to 
eat." 

I  used  to  watch  Gabriella  dress  like  a  hawk.  She 
had  lots  of  clever  little  tricks,  like  pinning  up  her 
pompadour  to  the  brim  of  her  hat,  or  rubbing  her 
cheeks  with  a  hair-brush  to  make  them  rosy.  She 
used  to  put  a  little  cologne  just  back  of  her  ears, 
which  I  thought  very  queer,  and  she  was  forever  ask 
ing  me  if  I  could  see  light  through  her  hair.  Every 
week  she  gave  her  face  what  she  called  a  cold-cream 
bath.  She  said  her  mother  always  did,  after  riding 
in  the  automobile. 

I  planned  to  spend  every  cent  of  Alec's  one  hundred 
dollars  on  clothes.  I  did  all  my  shopping  in  New 
York.  I  adored  New  York !  Saturday  afternoons 
when  the  other  girls  went  to  the  matinee,  the  chaper- 
one  allowed  me  to  spend  the  time  in  the  big  depart- 


60        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

ment  stores.  I  didn't  buy  anything  —  just  looked  and 
looked,  priced  and  priced,  and  when  I  had  a  nice 
clerk,  tried  things  on.  Once  I  had  my  nails  mani 
cured,  so  I  would  know  how;  once  I  went  to  a  Fifth 
Avenue  hair  dresser,  who  charged  me  a  dollar  and 
a  half  to  make  me  look  like  a  sight;  and  one  day  I 
bought  Father  a  necktie  for  fifty  cents  and  Alec  a 
scarf-pin  for  seventy-five.  That  is  all  I  spent  until 
just  before  Christmas  when  I  blew  in  the  whole  hun 
dred.  For,  you  understand,  it  was  not  to  impress 
the  girls  at  school,  but  the  people  at  home,  that  I 
bought  my  new  outfit.  It  was  not  until  after  I  had 
made  a  great  many  estimates  and  carefully  planned  it 
all  out  on  a  piece  of  paper  that  I  asked  one  of  the 
younger  teachers,  who  I  thought  had  good  taste,  if 
she  would  help  me  buy  a  few  trifling  clothes  on  the 
following  Saturday. 

We  started  on  the  early  train  and  reached  New 
York  at  nine  o'clock.  I  think  that  Saturday  was  the 
happiest  day  of  my  life!  I  bought  a  suit  for  thirty- 
five  dollars  at  Kirby's ;  a  hat  marked  down  to  ten  dol 
lars  at  Earl  &  Kittredge's;  a  silk  dress  for  twenty- 
five  dollars;  a  spotted  veil  for  fifty  cents;  a  barette 
for  twenty  cents ;  pumps  for  four  dollars ;  one  pair  of 
silk  stockings  for  one  dollar,  and  so  on.  I  had  just 
seven  dollars  and  sixty-seven  cents  left  after  I  had 
bought  my  last  purchase  —  a  lovely  red  silk  waist  for 
travelling.  My  suit  was  dark  blue,  my  boots  tan 
with  Cuban  heels,  and  my  blue  velvet  hat  had  two 
reddish  quills  in  it.  I  was  awfully  pleased  with  my 
selections,  and  I  confided  to  Miss  Davis,  the  teacher, 
that  I  wasn't  going  to  wear  any  of  the  things  until 
the  very  day  I  started  for  home. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        61 

"  And  now,"  I  said,  "  I'm  going  to  take  you  to 
luncheon,  Miss  Davis,  after  which  I  want  you  to  be 
my  guest  at  a  mantinee." 

It  was  simply  grand  to  have  money !  It  makes  you 
feel  like  a  queen  to  fling  it  around  as  if  it  were  paper. 
After  I  had  spent  almost  a  hundred  dollars  Miss  Davis 
thought  I  was  an  heiress  in  disguise,  and  to  carry  out 
the  part  I  left  the  whole  of  fifty  cents  as  a  tip  for 
our  waiter  at  luncheon.  I  told  Miss  Davis  to  pick 
out  the  most  popular  play  in  New  York  for  us  to  see. 
,We  bought  the  best  seats  in  the  house. 

Never,  never  as  long  as  I  live  shall  I  forget  those 
two  hours  and  a  half  of  perfect  happiness !  I'd  never 
seen  anything  but  vaudeville  in  my  life,  and  I  almost 
cry  now  when  I  think  of  that  play.  It  was  perfectly 
grand.  The  hero  kept  looking  right  straight  at  me 
all  the  time  and  what  do  you  think?  What  do  you 
suppose?  He  was  the  very  actor  whose  pictures  I 
had  cut  out  and  stuck  in  my  mirror !  He  was  Robert 
K.  Dwinnell,  and  I  hadn't  known  until  I  was  inside 
the  theatre  and  looked  at  the  program  that  he  was  in 
New  York.  It  seemed  to  me  too  strange  a  coin 
cidence  to  be  true.  I  don't  believe  in  omens,  but  Miss 
Davis  told  me  afterward  she  hadn't  the  slightest  idea 
that  I  had  been  collecting  his  pictures.  After  that 
play  I  could  hardly  speak.  The  queer  grey  light  of 
day  after  the  glow  of  the  footlights,  didn't  seem  real. 
Boarding-school  and  all  the  girls  seemed  trifling.  I 
couldn't  think  of  anything  except  Robert  Dwinnell 
and  that  play  all  the  way  back  in  the  train.  I  felt 
that  I  was  the  beautiful  heroine  instead  of  Lucy  Vars. 
I  felt  her  joy  at  meeting  her  lover  instead  of  my 
anguish  at  going  back  to  a  lot  of  unfriendly  girls.  I 


62        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

lived  and  breathed  in  the  action  of  the  plot  I  had  just 
seen.  I  couldn't  get  away  from  it.  Before  I  boarded 
the  train  that  night  I  dragged  Miss  Davis  into  a  small 
shop  which  we  passed  on  the  way  to  the  station,  and 
with  the  last  fifty  cents  of  Alec's  one  hundred  dollars 
I  bought  a  real  picture  of  Robert  Dwinnell.  The 
picture  is  here  now  in  this  very  cupola,  in  the  top 
drawer  of  my  desk  and  is  the  only  comfort  that  I 
have.  Mr.  Dwinnell  is  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  table 
swinging  one  foot,  just  as  he  did  in  the  play  —  I  re 
member  the  place  in  the  third  act  —  and  his  eyes  are 
looking  right  at  me. 

I  wonder,  oh,  I  wonder  sometimes,  if  he  and  I  will 
ever  meet. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  was  about  a  week  before  the  Christmas  vaca 
tion  that  my  last  outbreak  at  boarding-school  oc 
curred.  It  was  one  noon  after  lunch  when  I  was 
passing  through  the  hall  on  my  way  upstairs.  I  had 
to  go  by  Sarah  Platt's  room,  where  the  little  clique  of 
girls  I  had  once  longed  to  be  one  of,  used  often  to 
congregate  after  luncheon  before  the  two  o'clock 
study-hour.  They  were  gathered  there  to-day,  talk 
ing  and  laughing  together  in  their  usual  mysterious 
manner,  and  I  wondered  vaguely  as  I  went  by,  what 
they  were  discussing  now.  I  never  allowed  myself  to 
listen  intentionally,  but  the  conversation  of  those  girls, 
who  were  still  strangers  to  me,  always  fascinated  me, 
and  I  confess  I  used  to  overhear  all  that  I  could  with 
out  being  dishonourable.  As  I  sauntered  by  the  half- 
closed  door  of  that  room  I  recognised  the  voice  of 
Sarah  Platt  herself,  who  of  all  the  girls  I  had  as 
pired  to  make  my  best  friend.  Sarah  was  a  dashing 
kind  of  girl  and  would  show  off  to  awfully  good  ad 
vantage  before  my  family  if  I  had  invited  her  to 
visit  me. 

"  Well,"  I  heard  her  say,  "  I  think  Miss  Brown  is 
taking  her  in  on  charity." 

I    knew    Sarah   must   be    referring    to    me    and    I 
stopped  stock-still. 

"  Why,  she  hasn't  anything,  and  this  horrid  place  is 
probably  a  palace  to  her !  " 

I  flushed  with  rage.     Palace  nothing! 

63 


64        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  I  think,"  said  a  little  Jewess  by  the  name  of  Elsie 
Weil,  "  it's  too  bad  for  Gabriella.  I'd  hate  to  have 
such  a  room-mate  forced  on  me." 

"  I  don't  think  Miss  Brown  ought  to  take  such  a 
girl  in  at  all  and  make  us  who  pay  a  thousand  dol 
lars  a  year  be  intimate  with  a  person  we  never  can 
know  socially,"  drawled  Sarah  Platt.  "  It's  hard  on 
her  too,"  she  finished  patronisingly. 

"  Oh,  don't  mind  about  me"  I  breathed,  ready  to 
explode. 

"  I'm  just  tired,"  another  girl  broke  in,  "  of  having 
all  the  teachers,  and  Miss  Brown  too,  talking  and  lec 
turing  to  us  about  being  nice  to  Lucy,  Lucy,  Lucy  all 
the  time." 

"  And  the  spite  and  scorn  that  the  child  puts  on 
lately,"  added  Sarah,  "  is  perfectly  absurd.  As  if  she 
had  anything  to  back  it  up !  " 

"  I  know,"  went  on  the  little  Jewess,  "  her  family 
can't  be  much.  You  can  see  that.  Did  you  ever 
notice  the  row  of  old-fashioned  family  pictures  on  the 
back  of  her  chiffonier?  " 

At  that  I  caught  my  breath.  My  dear  good  family! 
And  without  waiting  to  hear  another  word  I  flung 
open  the  door.  There  were  six  or  seven  girls  before 
me  crowded  together  in  a  bunch  on  a  couch  in  the 
corner.  I  felt  myself  grow  suddenly  calm  as  I  stood 
there  before  them  not  saying  a  word,  and  they  staring 
back  at  me  as  if  I  were  an  apparition. 

"  I  heard  every  single  word  you  said,"  I  began 
slowly,  "every  single  word!"  Then  my  thoughts 
collected  themselves  and  filed  by  in  the  order  of  sol 
diers  on  parade.  "  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  your  opin 
ions.  I  feel  above  every  one  of  you.  It  makes  me 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        6$ 

smile  to  think  I  would  be  the  least  disturbed  by  com 
mon  and  uneducated  westerners,"  for  Sarah  lived  in 
Missouri,  "  or  Jews!  "  I  spat  at  Elsie  Weil.  "  You 
needn't  any  of  you  trouble  about  being  kind  to  me.  I 
don't  want  your  kindness.  I'm  perfectly  indifferent 
to  every  one  of  you.  I  am  not  here  on  charity;  and 
as  for  the  pictures  on  my  chiffonier,  if  you  don't  like 
them,  lump  them,  or  else  keep  your  eyes  at  home."  I 
knew  I  was  acting  unladylike  but  I  was  fired  up  and 
couldn't  help  going  on.  "  My  family  may  not  have 
fashionable  photographs,  my  clothes  may  be  as  ugly 
as  mud,  but  if  you  knew  who  my  older  brother  is,  if 
you  knew  who  my  father  is,  if  you  knew!  My  father 
is  president  of  the  Vars  &  Company  Woollen  Mills ; 
my  father  is  a  director  in  the  Hilton  County  Savings 
Bank ;  my  father  is  a  state  senator ;  my  father  —  oh,  I 
shan't  tell  you  all  he  is,  because  you  haven't  got  enough 
brains  to  appreciate  it.  It  would  be  like  telling  monk- 
ies  about  Abraham  Lincoln !  "  I  stopped  just  a  mo 
ment,  but  no  one  spoke.  All  those  girls  huddled  to 
gether  in  a  bunch  just  kept  on  staring  as  they  would  at 
a  rearing  horse  in  a  parade,  meekly  from  the  sidewalk. 
"  You  don't  know  about  anything  but  clothes  and 
theatres.  And  let  me  tell  you  once  for  all  I  don't  want 
anything  of  any  of  you."  Sarah  Platt  opened  her 
mouth  to  speak.  I  cut  her  off  short.  "  Keep  still, 
Sarah  Platt,"  I  said.  "  Don't  you  dare  address  one 
word  to  me !  "  Oh,  I  wanted  to  do  something  insult 
ing,  like  sticking  out  my  tongue,  or  making  an  ugly 
face.  But  instead  I  just  said,  "  And  don't  one  of  you 
in  this  room  ever  assume  to  speak  one  word  to  me  as 
long  as  you  live !  "  And  I  turned,  stalked  out  of  the 
room,  and  went  straight  upstairs. 


66        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  don't  know  how  I  could  have  said  anything  so 
horrid  as  all  that,  and  I  seventeen  years  old,  but  some 
how  it  is  always  easier  for  me  to  roll  off  spiteful  things 
than  anything  sweet  and  kind.  I  am  always  less  em- 
.  barrassed  about  it.  Poor  Alec  would  have  been  aw- 
1  fully  disappointed  to  have  heard  such  an  outburst  from 
'his  sister.  Father  would  have  said,  "  Oh,  Lucy !  " 
The  arrogant  twins  wouldn't  have  wanted  to  own  me. 
Only  my  dear  old  chum  Juliet  Adams  would  have  been 
proud.  She  would  have  exclaimed,  "  Bully  for  you, 
Bobs!" 

When  I  reached  my  room  on  the  next  floor,  I  calmly 
opened  the  door  and  went  in.  Gabriella  was  standing 
by  her  desk.  I  never  shall  forget  how  she  looked 
—  perfectly  white  and  staring  at  me  horribly.  I  won 
dered  what  ailed  her,  for  she  couldn't  have  heard  my 
tirade  on  the  floor  below. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Gabriella?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,"  she  began,  then  sank  down  in  a  chair 
by  her  desk,  leaned  forward  with  her  head  buried  in 
her  arms,  and  began  to  cry  dreadfully. 

I  went  over  to  her. 

"  Gabriella,"  I  said,  sorry  for  her  somehow,  for 
though  she  was  one  of  Sarah  Platt's  clique  she  had  not 
been  talking  about  me;  she  was,  after  all,  my 
room-mate,  and  at  least  she  let  me  see  her  cry. 
"  Please,  Gabriella,  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Miss  Brown,"  she  choked,  "  wants  — "  she 
stopped,  then  wailed,  "you!" 

"Me?"  I  groped  blindly.  Me?  Had  my  awful 
words  been  telegraphed  to  Miss  Brown's  office?  Did 
she  know  already?  I  couldn't  follow.  Things  were 
happening  too  rapidly.  "  Me,  Gabriella,  "  I  asked. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        67 

"But  what   for?     Please   stop  crying  and  tell  me." 

I  could  barely  catch  a  few  words  amidst  her  violent 
sobs. 

"My  father,"  she  said.  (I  knew  Gabriella's  father 
had  died  the  winter  before  when  she  was  away  at 
school. )  "A  telegram,"  she  stumbled  on,  and  I 
waited,  "  your  father  — " 

My  father! 

I  went  to  Gabriella  quickly,  put  my  arm  about  her 
and  leaned  my  head  down  close  to  hers. 

"  Listen,  Gabriella.  Be  quiet  for  just  one  minute 
and  answer  me.  Did  you  say  my  father?  "  and  then 
in  a  fresh  torrent  of  sobs  I  heard  her  "  Yes." 

I  left  her  crying  there  and  went  down  through  the 
long  corridors  to  Miss  Brown's  office.  I  passed  Sarah 
Platt's  room  without  knowing  it.  I  even  passed  some 
one  in  the  hall  but  I  have  no  idea  who  it  was.  I  kept 
thinking,  "  This  is  your  first  test.  Be  ready  and  don't 
break." 

Miss  Brown  was  at  her  desk.  She  started  a  little 
when  she  saw  me,  then  smiled  —  how  could  she  smile 
—  and  said,  "  Oh,  Gabriella  found  you.  Come  here, 
dear,"  and  she  put  out  her  hand.  I  closed  the  door 
and  then  backed  up  against  it.  I  couldn't  go  near  Miss 
Brown.  I  didn't  want  her  tissue-paper  sympathy. 

"  What's  happened  to  my  father,  Miss  Brown?"  I 
asked.  "  You  can  tell  me  the  very  worst  right  off." 

She  didn't  hedge  any  more. 

"  He  is  very,  very  ill,"  she  replied,  going  straight  to 
the  point  as  I  liked  to  have  her. 

"  Does  that  mean,"  I  said,  "  that  he  is  —  is  —  '  I 
couldn't  say  it  —  "  is  worse  than  very  ill?  "  I  finished. 

"  No,"  she  replied.     "  No,  Lucy.     Your  father  is 


68        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

still  living.  I  have  just  called  up  your  brother  by 
long  distance  telephone  and  they  want  you  to  come 
home  immediately.  It  is  your  father's  heart."  Then 
she  added,  looking  at  me  firmly,  as  if  she  were  up 
holding  me  by  the  hand :  "  It  is  a  long  trip.  You 
must  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  Lucy."  I  didn't  an 
swer  and  she  turned  to  her  desk,  picked  up  a  piece  of 
paper  and  passed  it  to  me.  "  Read  it,"  she  said.  "  It 
is  a  telegram  for  you." 

I  looked  down  and  these  words  greeted  me  like 
dear,  comforting  friends: 

"  Stand  up,  Bobbie.  Be  brave.  We  need  you  to 
be  strong.  Alec." 

It  was  just  as  if  my  dear  brother  Alec  were  sud 
denly  there  like  a  miracle  in  the  room  beside  me,  and 
now,  at  last,  I  would  not  disappoint  him. 

I  looked  up  at  Miss  Brown. 

"When  is  there  a  train?"  I  asked  calmly;  but 
to  myself  I  was  saying  over  and  over  again,  "  Stand 
up.  Be  brave.  They  need  you  to  be  strong." 

Miss  Brown  came  over  to  me,  and  I  must  say  I've 
always  liked  her  from  that  day  to  this.  She  didn't 
say  anything  silly  or  comforting  to  me.  That  would 
all  have  been  so  useless.  She  just  took  my  hand 
in  a  man's  sort  of  way  and  held  it  firmly  a  minute  in 
hers,  "  Your  brother  will  be  proud  of  you,"  she  said. 
That  was  all,  but  do  you  think  then  I  would  have 
failed? 

"  We  will  go  upstairs  and  pack,"  she  added  im 
mediately,  and  I  followed  her,  bound  now  to  control 
myself  or  die. 

I  don't  know  how  I  ever  got  started.  I  only  know 
there  was  a  confused  half-hour  of  packing,  with  Miss 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        69 

Brown  helping  and  Gabriella  close  by  me  all  the  time. 
Gabriella  couldn't  seem  to  do  enough.  I  saw  her 
slip  her  pink  kimono  into  my  suit-case ;  I  saw  her  pin 
one  of  her  beautiful  pearl  bars  on  my  red  silk  waist. 
She  got  out  my  new  blue  suit  and  brushed  it ;  my  new 
hat  with  the  red  quills;  and  while  I  combed  my  hair, 
she  laced  my  new  tan  shoes.  I  understood  that  it 
was  her  way  of  telling  me  how  sorry  she  was,  for 
every  once  in  a  while  she'd  have  to  stop  and  cry. 
Once  she  said,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  I've  been  so  mean. 
I  hope  —  oh,  I  do  hope  you'll  come  back,  Lucy." 
But  I  didn't  care  now.  It  was  too  late.  All  my 
thoughts  were  with  my  family  who  needed  me.  I 
gathered  their  dear  pictures  together  in  a  pile  and  put 
them  in  my  suit-case  —  Father's  picture  too,  but  I 
didn't  trust  myself  to  look  at  it.  Dear  Father  — 
but  I  didn't  dare  let  myself  think,  just  at  first. 

I  felt  in  the  air  that  all  the  girls  knew  my  news 
about  as  soon  as  I  did.  Of  course  they  didn't  come 
near  me.  Even  if  I  had  been  popular  I  don't  believe 
they  would  have  come.  Sorrow  somehow  builds  up 
such  a  barrier,  and  the  one  or  two  girls  I  met  in  the 
corridors  kept  close  to  the  other  wall  and  tried  to 
avoid  meeting  my  eyes.  Gabriella  and  Miss  Brown 
and  the  English  teacher,  whom  I  had  always  hated, 
saw  me  off.  I  begged  to  take  the  trip  alone  and  Miss 
Brown  finally  allowed  it. 

I  thought  of  everything  during  that  journey,  and 
the  more  I  thought  the  more  I  trusted  myself  to  think, 
I  don't  know  what  made  me  so  clear-headed  and  fear 
less,  but  I'd  run  my  thoughts  right  up  to  any  hard 
truth,  and  they  wouldn't  balk;  they'd  go  right  over. 
My  mother  had  died  when  I  was  so  little  that  I  did 


70        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

not  remember  it  and  so  this  was  the  first  test  I  had 
ever  had.  Perhaps  —  oh,  perhaps,  —  I  faced  it 
clearly  and  squarely  —  perhaps  when  I  was  met  at  the 
station  they  would  tell  me  that  I  had  come  too  late. 
I  knew  now  that  I  wouldn't  give  way.  Some  great 
wonderful  strength  was  in  me  and  I  wasn't  afraid  of 
myself.  My  home-coming  was  very  different  from 
the  one  I  had  planned,  but  when  we  drew  near  to  the 
familiar  old  station  I  just  said,  "  Be  strong,"  and  1 
knew  that  I  should. 

Dr.  Maynard  was  at  the  station  to  meet  me.  The 
minute  he  got  hold  of  my  hand  he  said,  "  It's  all 
right.  You're  not  too  late." 

"  That's  good,"  I  replied,  but  somehow  I  couldn't 
feel  any  more  joy  than  sorrow.  I  remember,  in  the 
carriage,  I  asked  lots  of  straight-forward,  business 
like  questions  and  Dr.  Maynard  answered  me  in  the 
same  way.  There  was  no  hope.  The  end  might  come 
at  any  moment.  When  he  stopped  before  our  door 
and  helped  me  out,  he  said,  "  Bobbie,  you're  a  brave 
girl."  But  I  wasn't.  I  couldn't  have  cried.  I  didn't 
know  how. 

I  went  into  the  house  while  Dr.  Maynard  stopped 
to  hitch  and  blanket  his  horse.  I  found  the  twins  and 
Ruth  and  Aunt  Sarah  all  in  the  sitting-room.  It 
didn't  come  to  my  mind  then,  but  now,  as  I  remem 
ber  it,  it  was  all  very  different  from  the  triumphant 
entry  I  had  planned.  No  one  jumped  up  to  greet 
me,  and  my  new  suit  and  tan  shoes  and  hat  with  the 
quills  were  all  unnoticed  even  by  myself.  The  twins 
came  forward  and  kissed  me  —  not  embarrassed  as 
they  usually  are,  but  scarcely  realising  it.  They 
didn't  say  anything,  just  kissed  me  and  turned  away> 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        71 

Ruth  lay  prostrate  on  the  couch.  She  didn't  stir  at 
sight  of  me  and  I  went  up  .to  her  and  kissed  her  on  the 
temple.  At  that  she  buried  her  face  deeper  into  the 
cushions  and  began  to  sob.  Aunt  Sarah  looked  as  if 
she  had  been  crying  for  weeks.  She  sat  quietly  rock 
ing  by  the  west  window  and  her  big,  dyed-out,  blue 
eyes  were  swimming  in  tears,  brimming  over,  and 
running  down  her  wrinkled  face.  It's  something 
awful  to  me,  to  see  a  grown  person  cry.  It's  like  an 
old  wreck  at  sea,  and  I  just  couldn't  kiss  her.  Every 
body  so  horrible  and  silent  and  dismal,  was  worse 
somehow  than  death,  and  just  for  a  moment  I  stood 
kind  of  helpless  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Then 
the  door  into  the  library  opened  and  I  saw  my  dear 
tired,  patient  Alec,  and  suddenly  his  arms  were 
around  me  tight,  holding  me  close  —  close  to  him  and 
I  heard  him  murmur,  "  Good  Bobbie,  good,  brave 
Bobbie,"  and  oh,  if  I  can  hate  people  awfully,  I  can 
love  them  too.  When  he  let  me  go,  he  said  calmly, 
"Don't  you  want  to  come  and  see  Father?"  and  I 
followed  him  upstairs. 

Dr.  Maynard  led  me  to  the  side  of  Father's  bed 
and  I  took  one  of  Father's  dear,  familiar  hands  in 
mine.  Alec  sat  down  on  the  other  side  and  for  a 
while  we  three  waited  silently  until  Father  should 
wake  up.  I  wasn't  frightened.  It  all  seemed  very 
natural,  and  none  of  the  heart-breaking  thoughts  that 
came  to  me  all  during  the  weeks  after  he  left  us  came 
to  me  then.  It  really  seemed  almost  beautiful  to  be 
waiting  there  until  Father  should  wake  up.  When 
finally  he  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  me,  he  smiled,  and 
pressed  my  hand  a  very  little.  Then  he  spoke. 

"  Lucy !  "  he  said ;  and  after  a  long  pause,   "  Do 


72        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

you  like  school?  "  he  asked,  just  as  naturally  as  if  we 
were  having  a  nice  little  talk  downstairs. 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  Father,  I  do !  "  I  answered,  and 
he  pressed  my  hand  again.  It  didn't  strike  me  so 
very  deeply  then  that  my  last  word  to  my  father  was 
a  lie,  but  afterward  I  used  to  cry  about  it  for  hours 
and  hours.  After  a  moment  my  father  turned  to 
Alec,  "  Stand  by  the  business,  my  son,"  he  murmured. 

And  without  a  moment's  hesitation  my  brother 
promised,  "  I  will,  Father." 

I  didn't  think  Father  would  say  anything  more, 
for  he  closed  his  eyes  again,  but  after  a  while  he 
opened  them  and  I  saw  he  was  actually  noticing  my 
hat  and  red  waist,  and  the  pearl  pin  Gabriella  had 
given  me.  He  smiled  and  I  heard  him  murmur, 
"  Pretty !  "  That  was  all ;  and  oh,  since,  I  have  been 
so  glad  that  my  new  clothes  did  so  much  more  than  I 
had  ever  hoped.  For  that  was  the  last  word  my 
father  said.  I  felt  his  hand  grow  limp  in  mine,  and 
just  then  Dr.  Maynard  touched  my  shoulder  and  led 
me  quietly  away.  He  told  me  to  lie  down  on  the 
bed  in  the  guest-room.  I  obeyed  him  and  when,  a 
little  later,  he  came  to  me  I  understood  the  message 
in  his  eyes.  I  didn't  feel  the  awfulness  of  it  then 
nor  I  didn't  have  the  least  inclination  to  cry.  I  lay 
there  very  quietly  for  half  an  hour,  then  of  my  own 
accord  I  got  up  and  went  downstairs. 

I  found  Aunt  Sarah  by  the  window  still  crying1 
without  the  grace  of  covering  her  tear-stained  face. 
The  twins  were  not  there.  Ruth  jumped  up  when 
I  came  in  and  clung  to  me  frantically. 

"  Aunt  Sarah,"  I  asked,  annoyed,  "  why  do  you  sit 
there  and  cry  ?  " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        73 

"  Unnatural  girl,"  she  answered,  "  have  you  no 
heart,  no  tears?  Don't  you  know  your  father  has 
died?" 

At  those  awful  words  poor  little  Ruth  clung  to  me 
still  tighter  and  wailed,  "  Oh,  send  her  away,  make 
her  go  off!" 

I  replied  to  my  aunt,  "  Aunt  Sarah,  don't  you  know 
you  shouldn't  speak  like  that  before  Ruth?  I'm  sur 
prised." 

A  little  later  Alec  came  quietly  into  the  room. 
Poor  Ruthie  flung  herself  upon  him  just  as  she  had 
upon  me,  and  as  he  held  her  and  patted  her  shoulder, 
he  said,  looking  at  me  in  a  way  that  made  me  stronger, 
"  Lucy,  you  will  find  Oliver  in  the  alcove  under 
the  stairs.  Go  to  him  and  give  him  something  to 
do." 

Poor  Oliver  was  crying  as  only  a  boy  of  sixteen 
who  isn't  used  to  it  can,  I  guess  —  dreadfully  uncon 
trolled.  He  was  sitting  on  the  leather  couch,  leaning 
forward  with  his  face  in  his  hands.  I  went  straight 
over  to  him  and  sinking  down  beside  him,  put  my 
arms  right  around  him.  Poor  Oliver  —  poor  big 
broken  Oliver!  All  the  hate  in  my  heart  for  that 
cruel  twin  rolled  right  away  when  I  felt  his  great 
big  body  leaning  up  against  me.  I  loved  him  just 
as  if  he  were  my  son  come  home.  We  sat  there 
together  a  long  while  —  just  Oliver  and  I  —  and 
finally  when  he  was  a  little  quieter  he  managed  to 

say,  "  Don't  —  don't  tell  Alec  and  Malcolm  —  that  I 
j » 

"  Of  course  I  won't,  Oliver,"  I  assured  him,  and 
then  I  added  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  "  My 
trunk  is  still  at  the  station,  Oliver.  I  need  it  awfully. 


74        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Here's  the  check.  It's  dark  out  now.  Will  you  go 
down  and  see  about  it  ?  " 

He  looked  away  and  replied  in  a  voice  that  tried 
to  sound  natural,  "  Sure,  I'll  go,"  and  stood  up  and 
blew  his  nose  very  hard.  I  saw  him  glance  into  the 
mirror  over  the  fireplace.  Then,  "  Will  you  get  my 
overcoat  and  hat?"  he  asked  shamefacedly.  When 
he  went  out  of  the  house  he  had  the  visor  of  his  cap 
pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes,  and  his  hands  shoved 
deep  into  his  pockets.  We  hadn't  said  a  word  about 
Father. 

As  for  myself,  I  don't  know  what  was  the  matter. 
I  honestly  didn't  seem  to  feel  a  thing.  I  was  just  like 
a  soulless  machine.  During  the  three  following  days 
I  wrote  notes,  sent  telegrams,  saw  about  a  black  dress 
for  Ruth,  Aunt  Sarah  and  myself,  planned  good 
nourishing  meals  for  the  family,  went  on  errands,  and 
"  picked  up  "  every  room  in  the  house,  for  they  cer 
tainly  looked  awful.  I  didn't  sleep  and  I  wasn't  hun 
gry.  I  was  wound  up  pretty  tight,  I  guess,  for  it 
took  me  a  long  while  to  run  down.  On  the  second 
afternoon  Dr.  Maynard  took  me  out  to  drive  and  then 
shut  me  up  in  my  bedroom  with  the  curtains  all  drawn 
tight  and  a  little  white  sleeping-powder  to  take  in 
fifteen  minutes  if  I  didn't  go  to  sleep.  I  took  the 
powder  and  stayed  awake  all  night  besides.  Once 
during  those  blind,  confused  three  days  Juliet  came 
to  see  me,  to  tell  me  how  sorry  she  was  I  suppose,  but 
I  wasn't  glad  to  have  her.  I  remember  I  just  said, 
"Hello,  Juliet,  how's  basket-ball  and  high  school?" 
I  wasn't  glad  to  see  even  Tom  and  Elise.  When 
Elise  held  me  tight  in  her  arms  and  whispered,  "  Poor 
little  Bobbie ! "  I  felt  like  a  hypocrite,  and  pulled 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        75 

away.  Every  time  the  door-bell  rang  and  I  knew 
that  it  was  some  one  else  who  had  come  to  try  and 
comfort  us,  I  wanted  to  lock  myself  in  my  room.  My 
head  ached  and  my  eyes  felt  like  chunks  of  lead.  But 
I  didn't  want  sympathy.  I  didn't  need  it. 

The  end  came  the  night  after  the  funeral.  It 
hadn't  occurred  to  me  but  that  I  would  go  back  to 
boarding-school  after  Christmas.  We  were  all  in  the 
sitting-room  —  all  but  Aunt  Sarah  who  finally  had 
stopped  crying  and  was  recuperating  in  her  bed  up 
stairs.  Tom  and  Alec  were  discussing  all  sorts  of 
plans,  and  I  remember  that  Dr.  Maynard,  who  seemed 
to  be  one  of  the  family  now,  was  there  too.  I  wasn't 
following  the  conversation  very  closely,  and  sud 
denly  I  heard  Tom  say,  "  Well  certainly  the  sooner 
Aunt  Sarah  packs  up,  the  better." 

"  Why,  who  then,"  I  asked,  "  will  take  her  place  ?  " 

Alec  looked  up. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Bobbie,"  he  asked.  "  You'll 
be  here,  won't  you?" 

"  Why,  no.  I  shall  be  at  boarding-school,"  I  re 
plied. 

At  that  Ruth  suddenly  flopped  over  on  the  couch 
and  began  her  usual  torrent  of  crying.  "  I  hate  Aunt 
Sarah !  I  hate  Aunt  Sarah !  I  hate  Aunt  Sarah !  " 
she  wailed. 

"  The  whole  fall  was  rotten ! "  put  in  Malcolm. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Lucy,  that  you're  going  back 
to  that  school?"  he  fired. 

"  I  guess  your  duty  is  here,  Bobbie,  old  girl,"  said 
Tom;  and  Elise  got  up  and  came  over  to  my 
chair. 

"  I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  give  up  school,"  she 


76        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

said  sweetly,  "  but  they  do  need  you,  don't  they,  dear  ? 
Later,  perhaps — " 

"  Well,  I  must  say,"  interrupted  Oliver,  who  was 
master  of  himself  without  any  doubt  now,  "  if  this 
isn't  the  greatest !  Look  here,  Alec,"  he  asked,  "  do 
you  intend  to  allow  Bobbie  to  neglect  us  in  this  fash 
ion?" 

And  Alec,  dear  Alec,  across  the  room  just  smiled 
and  said,  looking  straight  at  me,  "  I  am  going 
to  let  her  do  as  she  thinks  best,"  and  his  eyes  were 
full  of  kindness. 

I  got  up  then.  My  knees  were  trembling.  I 
thought  at  last  I  was  going  to  break  down  and  cry. 
They  wanted — oh,  finally  my  family  wanted  me!  I 
didn't  know  whether  to  trust  my  voice  or  not. 

"  Well,"  I  said  a  little  wobbly,  trying  to  smile  back 
at  Alec,  "  I'll  think  it  over."  And  as  soon  as  I  could, 
I  sneaked  out  of  the  room,  on  the  pretense  of  getting 
a  drink  of  water.  I  went  into  the  little  back  hall 
off  the  kitchen,  took  an  old  golf  cape  that  was  hang 
ing  there,  threw  it  over  my  shoulders,  and  went  out 
doors.  It  didn't  seem  as  if  I  could  get  my  breath  in 
side  the  house.  It  was  dark,  the  stars  had  come  out, 
and  I  went  out  of  the  back  gate,  walking  as  hard  and 
fast  as  I  could.  I  knew  I  must  do  something,  for  as 
wicked  as  it  seems  I  was  almost  crazy  with  happiness, 
and  I  was  afraid  that  at  any  moment,  now  at  the  very 
last,  I  should  give  up  entirely,  lie  down  at  the  side  of 
the  road  and  cry  and  cry.  I  almost  ran  as  I  hurried 
along,  and  all  the  time  I  kept  saying,  "  Hold  on.  Be 
strong.  Don't  let  go."  Yet  I  knew  the  storm  was 
gathering  and  I  was  losing  my  grip.  I  didn't  plan 
to  go  to  Juliet's  house,  but  suddenly  I  saw  it  looming 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER   77 

up  in  front  of  me,  and  it  occurred  to  me  to  stop  and 
tell  Juliet  my  beautiful  good  news.  So  I  hurried  to 
the  back  door  and  burst  into  the  kitchen.  The 
Adams's  cook  gave  an  awful  start. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Hannah,"  I  asked,  and  my  voice  was  strange  and 
hoarse,  "  where's  Juliet  ?  " 

"  Why,  at  dinner,"  gasped  Hannah,  staring  at  me. 
"What  is  it,  Miss  Lucy?" 

"  Tell  her  to  come  up  to  her  room,"  I  managed  to 
say,  and  in  our  usual  informal  way  I  dashed  up  the 
back  stairs  to  Juliet's  room,  which  I  knew  so  well. 
I  waited  impatiently  in  the  dark  and  in  a  minute  I 
heard  Juliet  pounding  up  the  stairs.  Then  I  saw  her 
coming  through  the  hall,  her  white  napkin  in  her  hand. 
I  grabbed  her. 

"  Juliet,"  I  cried,  "  Juliet,  I'm  not  going  back  to 
boarding-school !  They  want  me  here !  I'm  so  happy 
I  don't  know  what  to  do.  It's  horrible  to  be  happy 
but  I  am,  I  am! "  And  then  it  struck  me  so  funny 
to  be  happy  on  such  a  day  that  I  laughed !  I  laughed 
simply  dreadfully.  All  my  pent-up  feelings  burst 
forth  then,  and  I  laughed  till  I  cried.  I  could  hear 
myself  laugh  and  that  made  me  laugh  more,  and  then 
Juliet  looked  so  queer  and  thunderstruck  that  that 
added  to  it.  Pretty  soon  Mrs.  Adams  was  there  and 
they  were  putting  cold  water  on  my  face,  which  struck 
me  as  the  hugest  joke  I  ever  heard  of,  for  they  must 
have  thought  I  was  hysterical.  I  laughed  so  hard 
that  actually  I  hadn't  enough  will  or  strength  left  to 
stop  if  I  tried  —  I,  who  am  usually  so  controlled.  I 
got  down  on  the  floor  finally,  and  then  I  don't  re 
member  anything  more. 


78        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGE?, 

When  I  woke  up  it  must  have  been  hours  later,  for 
I  was  all  undressed  lying  quietly  in  Juliet's  bed,  and 
there  was  Mrs.  Adams  going  out  of  the  door,  and 
there  —  yes  —  there  was  Dr.  Maynard  behind  her. 
There  was  a  low  light  on  the  table  by  the  bed  and  be 
side  it  sat  my  dear  stolid  Juliet.  I  thought  at  first 
I  would  burst  out  laughing  again  to  see  her  sitting 
there  with  her  funny  little  tight  pig-tails  braided  for 
the  night,  with  me  in  her  bed  getting  her  sheets  all 
hot.  Just  then  she  looked  up. 

"  Hello,  Bob,"  she  said  in  her  commonplace,  nat 
ural  way.  "  Want  a  drink  of  water?  "  and  she  came 
over  and  gave  me  a  little  sip  out  of  a  glass.  I  didn't 
remember  anything  then,  only  that  it  was  good  to 
have  old  Juliet  around. 

"  There  was  no  one  as  nice  as  you  at  school, 
Juliet,"  I  said. 

"  I  guess  that's  a  merry  jest,"  she  replied  in  her 
usual  way.  She  took  the  glass  away  and  I  heard  her 
go  out  of  the  room.  I  lay  there  very  quietly  and 
watched  the  dim  light  flickering.  There  was  a  little 
clock  somewhere  that  was  ticking  quietly. 

Then  —  oh,  then  I  came  back  to  life,  and  suddenly 
the  thought  of  my  dear,  dear  father  returned  to  me. 
I  began  to  cry  softly  for  the  first  time,  and  finally 
fell  asleep. 

As  I  sit  here  this  soft  spring  day  and  listen  for  the 
noon-whistle  on  Father's  factory  to  blow,  I  shall  not 
wait  for  the  sight  of  Dixie  and  the  phaeton  coming 
up  the  hill,  for  Alec  will  be  alone  and  I  hate  to  be  re 
minded  of  too  many  places  left  empty  by  Father. 
Father  had  so  many  favourite  chairs.  In  every  room 
in  the  house  it  seems  as  if  he  had  his  special  place. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        79 

And  his  roll-top  desk  closed  and  locked,  his  various 
pairs  of  shoes  and  slippers  which  he  used  to  keep 
underneath  all  put  away,  makes  the  dear  spot  look 
as  if  it  were  for  rent.  I  hate  the  neat  orderly  air  of 
the  sitting-room.  It  seems  to  be  reproaching  me. 
Father  used  to  love  to  fill  the  room  with  all  kinds  and 
descriptions  of  papers.  Everything,  from  a  folder 
left  at  the  front  door  directed  to  "  The  Lady  of  the 
House  "  to  year-old  newspapers,  Father  wanted  pre 
served.  There  were  three  piles  of  the  Scientific  Ma 
chinist,  four  feet  high,  stacked  up  in  one  corner.  I 
used  to  beg  Father  to  let  me  carry  off  those  Scientific 
Machinists  at  least  —  they  collected  dust  fearfully  — 
but  he  wouldn't  allow  me  even  to  suggest  such  an 
idea.  So  on  my  own  responsibility  one  day,  I 
stealthily  took  away  some  of  the  bottom  ones  and 
packed  them  in  the  storeroom.  I  knew  he'd  never 
miss  them  and  the  pile  was  growing.  Every  month 
I'd  clear  out  the  paper  case,  preferring  to  annoy  the 
kindest  father  a  girl  ever  had  to  having  an  untidy 
room.  I  ciy  when  I  think  of  the  kind  of  daughter 
I  was;  I  cry  and  cry  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  I 
wasn't  good!  I  wasn't  good!  I  write  it  down  for 
every  one  to  see.  Of  course  it's  too  late  now,  but 
I've  taken  down  the  muslin  curtains  from  Father's 
room,  and  the  lace  ones  from  the  sitting-room.  Father 
never  approved  of  hangings  of  any  kind.  I  don't  al 
low  the  cat  in  the  front  of  the  house.  I  haven't  de 
stroyed  a  single  folder,  pamphlet  or  catalogue.  The 
pile  of  Scientific  Machinists  I  wouldn't  move  from  the 
corner  for  anything  in  the  world. 

Oh,  Father,  if  you  were  only  here  to  be  pleased;  if 
you  were  only  here  to  scatter  papers  around;  if  you 


80        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

were  only  here  to  ring  the  gong  for  dinner,  call 
Ruthie  "  baby,"  me  "  chicken,"  say  "  Hello,  boys!  "  to 
the  twins,  and  then  sit  down  opposite  me,  clear  your 
throat  and  ask  the  blessing;  if  you  were  here  again  I 
would  be  a  better  oldest  daughter.  I  wouldn't  tease 
for  a  rubber-tired  runabout,  for  new  wallpaper,  nor 
for  that  brass  bed  for  my  room. 

I  don't  know  where  you  are,  nor  where  my  mother 
is,  but  somehow  up  here  in  this  cupola  on  a  starry 
night,  when  I  sit  on  the  window-seat,  lie  flat  back 
with  my  head  out  of  the  open  window,  and  look  up 
into  that  great  dome  of  a  sky,  I  feel  as  if  you  two 
may  be  together  somewhere,  perhaps  seeing  me. 

But  I  don't  know.  There  are  times  when  I'm 
dreadfully  doubtful;  there  are  times  that  I  don't 
believe  anything.  I  think  I  may  be  an  atheist!  I 
have  never  discussed  the  subject  with  anybody,  but 
occasionally  it  comes  to  me,  just  as  the  fear  used  to 
come  that  I  was  adopted,  that  religion  is  all  a  lie. 
I  know  I'm  a  member  of  the  church,  and  it  may  be 
horribly  wicked  of  me,  but  once  in  a  while  right  in 
the  middle  of  my  prayers  at  night,  I'll  stop  and  think, 
*'  Perhaps  no  one  is  hearing  me  at  all." 

Really,  I  wonder  sometimes  if  any  other  girl  ever 
had  such  awful  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ONE  day  last  fall  I  received  an  important  letter 
from  Oliver.  The  twins  are  in  college  now, 
perfectly  great  fellows  and  awfully  prominent.  I 
don't  know  what  they  don't  belong  to  down  there  at 
that  university;  and  good-looking  —  well,  I  just  wish 
Gabriella  or  Sarah  Platt  or  horrid  little  Elsie  Weil 
could  lay  their  eyes  on  Oliver's  last  photograph.  He's 
stunning!  The  big  loose  baggy  clothes  that  college 
men  wear,  suit  those  two  boys  perfectly,  and  though 
I  refuse  to  put  on  the  worshipful  air  that  Ruth  as 
sumes  in  the  twins'  presence,  I'm  just  exactly  as  proud 
of  my  brothers  as  any  girl  in  this  world.  Oliver  is 
the  better-looking  of  the  two  and  the  more  athletic. 
He's  a  member  of  the  crew  now,  and  it  gave  me  an 
awfully  funny  feeling  up  and  down  my  spine  when 
I  saw  my  younger  brother's  picture  in  one  of  the 
Boston  papers.  Malcolm  is  the  more  studious,  wears 
glasses  and  sings  in  the  Glee  Club.  He  isn't  "  a 
greasy  grind  "  at  all  —  not  that  sort,  but  he  never 
gets  into  scrapes  or  mix-ups,  and  doesn't  seem  to  need 
so  much  money. 

Money  was  what  Oliver's  important  letter  to  me 
was  about.  Usually  he  wrote  to  Alec  but  this  time 
he  appealed  to  me.  When  I  tore  open  his  letter  at  the 
breakfast  table  and  started  to  read  it  out-loud  to  Alec 
and  Ruthie  as  usual,  I  was  confronted  with  great 
printed  notices  at  the  top  and  on  the  margins  — 
PRIVATE!  PERSONAL!  DO  NOT  READ  OUT 

81 


82        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

LOUD!  SECRET!  and  so  forth.  I  assure  you  I 
shuffled  that  letter  back  into  its  envelope  as  quickly 
as  I  could  and  waited  for  a  quiet  hour  by  myself. 
This  is  what  the  letter  said: 


"Dear  Bobbie, 

"  This  is  very  important.  So  shut  the  door  and  read 
it  carefully.  I'm  writing  to  you  because  you  have  in 
fluence  with  Alec,  and  you've  got  to  use  it.  Alec 
doesn't  seem  to  realise  the  demands  on  a  man  down 
here.  When  he  and  Tom  were  at  college  they  had  all 
the  money  they  wanted,  and  they  don't  in  the  least  under 
stand  the  mighty  embarrassing  position  it  puts  a  fellow 
in  to  have  no  cash.  I  get  pretty  sick  of  sponging. 
There  are  certain  class  and  society  dues,  Athletic  Asso 
ciation  fees,  etc.,  that  any  kind  of  a  good  fellow  must 
ante  up  on.  Alec  doesn't  in  the  least  appreciate  the 
situation.  He's  getting  mighty  close  lately,  it  seems  to 
me,  and  every  time  he  sends  me  my  measly  monthly 
allowance,  he  seems  to  think  it's  a  good  chance  to  drool 
out  a  sermon  on  economy.  Economy !  Heavens,  I've 
been  known  time  and  time  again  to  walk  out  from  town 
after  the  theatre,  to  save  a  five-cent  car-fare.  I've  been 
to  some  of  the  swellest  dances  that  are  given  in  a  hired 
dress-suit.  Of  course  I  had  to  have  some  evening 
clothes.  You  would  know  that. 

Now  look  here,  Bobbie,  it  so  happens  that  I've  got  to 
have  something  that  resembles  a  hundred  dollars ! 
Don't  jump.  I'll  pay  it  all  back  —  every  cent.  But  it's 
serious,  and  I  must  have  it.  If  you  can't  get  it  from 
Alec,  can't  you  borrow  it  out  of  the  Household  Account 
which  you  have  charge  of?  I'll  make  it  right  with 
you  in  a  week  or  so,  and  be  more  than  grateful. 
"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"  OLIVER/' 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        83 

"  P.  S. 

"  Don't  let  Malcolm  know  I  need  this  money,  nor  tell 
Alec  what  you  want  it  for.  And  by  the  way,  I  must 
have  seventy-five  of  the  hundred  by  December  third  at 
the  latest  absolutely.  Understand  this  is  no  ordinary 
matter.  If  I  don't  get  the  money  somehow  it  will  mean 
public  disgrace.  Comprenez-vous  ?  " 

Now  Oliver  knew  as  well  as  I  that  we  were  dread 
fully  poor.  Ever  since  Father  died,  Alec  had  made  it 
very  plain  to  us  that  we  were  on  the  ragged  edge  of 
financial  disaster.  We  had  never  been  what  any  one 
could  call  prosperous  —  at  least  not  since  I  could  re 
member  —  but  when  Alec  took  hold  of  the  reins  at 
Father's  woollen  mills  he  found  things  in  a  pretty  bad 
condition,  I  guess.  He  explained  to  Malcolm  and 
Oliver  just  exactly  how  uncertain  our  financial  future 
was,  before  they  even  started  in  at  college.  He  told 
them  that  they  must  let  it  be  known,  early  in  their 
college  course,  that  they  couldn't  afford  the  luxuries 
of  well-to-do  men's  sons.  He  said  that  college  must 
mean  to  them  a  period  of  serious  preparation.  It 
was  only  due  to  Tom's  generosity,  he  explained,  that 
it  was  possible  for  the  twins  to  go  to  college  at  all. 
Torn  assumed  the  responsibility  of  the  twins'  tuition. 
"  And  sometime,"  announced  Alec  emphatically, 
"  both  you  boys  are  to  pay  back  that  loan,  every 
cent."  "  Sure.  Certainly.  Count  on  us!  "  were  the 
replies  they  made.  They  were  overwhelming  in 
their  assurances.  There  was  no  grumbling  then  when 
Alec  preached  to  them  about  economy. 

It  was  just  before  the  twins  went  to  college  that  we 
were  all  put  on  an  allowance.  Alec  called  us  together 
one  day  in  the  sitting-room  and  we  talked  it  over. 


84        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Alec  conducts  those  discussions  of  ours  with  a  lot  of 
ceremony.  He  sits  in  Father's  big  chair  and  allows 
each  one  of  us  to  state  his  or  her  opinion,  while  the 
rest  sit  quietly  and  listen.  Even  little  Ruth  may  say 
what  she  thinks  and  no  one  is  allowed  to  break  in  or 
interrupt.  Alec  is  the  jury  and  the  judge  all  in  one, 
and  when  he  has  heard  both  sides  and  weighed  the 
question  carefully  he  makes  the  decision.  Tom  is 
the  higher  court,  but  I've  never  known  Tom  once  to 
disagree  with  Alec's  verdict,  so  it  doesn't  do  much 
good  to  appeal  your  case.  At  that  meeting  in  the  sit 
ting-room  it  was  arranged  that  Ruth  and  I  should 
receive  each  twelve  dollars  a  month,  and  when  it  came 
to  the  twins  we  all  agreed  that  they  ought  to  have 
a  great  deal  more  than  two  girls  living  at  home. 
Alec  said  that  he  would  start  them  on  twenty -five 
apiece,  and  out  of  that  amount  everything,  except 
board  and  room  and  doctor's  bills,  should  be  paid.  At 
the  same  time  Alec  also  arranged  a  household  allow 
ance,  and  I  was  very  proud  when  he  appointed  me 
keeper  of  the  Household  Account.  I  was  glad  he 
thought  me  old  and  able  enough  for  such  a  position 
and  was  bound  to  prove  myself  worthy.  Every 
month  he  made  out  a  check  to  me  for  fifty  dollars 
and  put  it  in  the  bank  under  my  name.  I  paid  the 
grocery  and  provision  bill  on  the  tenth  of  every 
month,  submitted  a  report  of  the  different  items  to 
Alec  on  a  long  ruled  sheet  of  paper,  which  he,  when 
he  had  time,  examined  and  O.K'd.  He  impressed 
upon  me  again  and  again  the  absolute  necessity  of 
keeping  the  Household  Account  separate  from  my 
own.  He  told  me  in  a  long  talk  how  awfully  dis 
honest  it  would  be  if  I  ever  used  a  single  cent  of  that 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        85 

deposit  for  anything  but  household  expenses.  He  went 
so  far  as  to  give  me  examples  of  cashiers  in  banks  who 
were  put  in  prison  because  they  borrowed  a  little 
money  now  and  then  from  the  bank  for  their  own 
use,  fully  intending  to  pay  it  back  as  soon  as  they 
could.  So  you  see  that  when  Oliver  suggested  my 
borrowing  from  the  Household  Account  it  was  en 
tirely  out  of  the  range  of  possibility  to  consider  such 
a  thing. 

I  felt  sorry  for  Oliver.  I  knew  exactly  how  much 
he  must  have  wanted  a  dress-suit.  It  seemed  to  me 
a  perfect  shame  to  have  two  corking  fine  fellows  like 
the  twins  cheated  out  of  friends  and  good  times  and 
popularity  —  like  myself  at  boarding-school  —  because 
they  couldn't  afford  the  proper  clothes  or  pay  their 
shares  on  spreads  and  theatre  parties.  A  hundred 
dollars  was  an  awfully  lot  but  I  put  Oliver's  letter  into 
my  work-bag  the  evening  of  the  day  it  came  and  went 
down  into  the  sitting-room  after  supper  to  join  Alec 
by  the  drop-light  on  Father's  desk.  Every  evening 
I  sewed  while  Alec  worked  on  the  factory  books. 
Alec  didn't  talk  much  lately.  He  didn't  seem  to  want 
to.  He  was  usually  too  tired  for  anything  but  bed, 
when  he  finally  closed  the  big  ledgers,  but  I  was  al 
ways  there  beside  him  just  the  same.  The  twins  sent 
their  laundry  home  every  two  weeks  in  an  extension- 
bag,  and  it's  quite  a  job  keeping  two  strapping  college 
boys  sewed  up.  To-night  as  I  weaved  in  and  out 
across  a  delicate  little  hole  in  a  mauve-coloured  sock 
of  Oliver's  it  looked  to  me  as  if  it  were  an  expensive 
sock:  it  had  silk  clocks  embroidered  up  the  side.  I 
was  so  busy,  planning  just  how  I  would  approach 
Alec  for  that  hundred  dollars,  that  he  startled  me 


86        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

when  he  turned  around  in  Father's  revolving  desk- 
chair. 

"  Bobbie,  I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  he  said. 

"All  right,"  I  replied  gladly.  "Go  on."  Per 
haps,  I  thought  to  myself,  there  will  be  a  chance  to 
introduce  Oliver's  letter. 

Alec  folded  his  hands  on  the  slide  of  the  desk 
drawn  out  between  us. 

"  We're  spending  too  much  money,"  he  said  simply. 

I  had  heard  that  same  sentiment  expressed  so  often 
that  I  wasn't  deeply  impressed.  I  had  observed  in 
spite  of  Alec's  continued  talk  about  economy  that 
there  was  always  enough  to  pay  the  bills.  I  con 
tinued  sewing. 

"  Of  course;  I  know,"  I  said,  trying  to  appear  sym 
pathetic. 

"  No,  Bobbie,"  Alec  replied;  "  I  don't  think  you  do. 
It  is  different  this  time.  Will  you  stop  sewing?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked,  dropping  my  work 
in  my  lap. 

"  Bobbie,"  Alec  said,  "  perhaps  you  will  understand 
the  seriousness  of  the  situation  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  do  not  think  that  we  ought  to  live  in  such  a  big 
house." 

"  Not  live  here  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Lucy.  It's  a  big  place  to  keep  up 
for  just  you  and  me  and  Ruth.  We  can't  afford  it." 

"Has  the  business  failed,  Alec?"  I  interrupted 
with  kind  of  a  sick  feeling  in  my  stomach. 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  said  in  an  annoyed  sort  of  man 
ner  as  if  he  had  not  liked  me  to  ask.  "  We're  simply 
living  way  beyond  what  we  can  afford;  that's  all. 
We've  got  to  cut  down.  I  don't  know  how  long  it 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER    87 

may  take  to  make  a  favourable  sale  of  this  house, 
but  in  the  meanwhile  we  can't  afford  to  keep  two 
servants.  I'm  sorry,  Lucy ;  I'm  sorry ;  but  it's  a  mat 
ter  of  economy  to-day,  not  economy  to-morrow.  I've 
thought  it  all  out,"  my  brother  continued,  beginning 
now  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room.  "  I  know  Nellie 
has  been  with  us  twenty  years.  We  shall  miss  her; 
but  she's  not  strong,  she  can't  cook  or  wash.  We 
must  have  a  good  young  Irish  girl  —  five  dollars  a 
week  —  not  more.  It  means  a  big  change  this  time, 
you  see.  I  had  hoped  to  avoid  such  a  course  as  this, 
but  if  we  are  to  escape  a  worse  catastrophe — " 

I  don't  know  what  Alec  went  on  talking  about  as 
he  walked  up  and  down  that  sitting-room  floor;  I 
don't  know  how  long  he  continued  explaining,  and 
trying  to  make  clear  to  me  the  seriousness  of  our 
situation;  I  don't  know;  I  really  don't  know.  I  sat 
stunned  and  silent  in  my  chair,  not  stirring  a  muscle. 
Sell  our  home!  Why,  Father  had  built  it.  I  had 
been  born  in  it.  Dismiss  Nellie!  Why,  Nellie  had 
known  my  mother.  Nellie  was  part  of  the  founda 
tion  of  our  lives.  I  couldn't  take  in  the  succeeding 
facts  because  those  two  were  stuck  in  my  throat.  I 
felt  like  crying  out,  "  Don't,  don't  cram  any  more  in. 
I'm  choking !  "  But  Alec  kept  right  on. 

"  The  stable,  of  course,  I  shall  close  immediately. 
'We  mustn't  keep  a  horse.  I  shall  have  to  get  rid  of 
Dixie." 

It  isn't  a  nice  figure,  but  at  that  last  announcement 
I  gulped  up  all  that  I  had  tried  to  swallow  before. 

"  O  Alec,"  I  interrupted,  "  poor  little  Dixie !  Please, 
please,  please  don't  sell  Dixie ! "  I  pleaded. 
"  Please  don't  sell  our  home,"  I  cried.  "  Why,  where 


88        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

shall  we  live?  Don't  send  Nellie  away.  Don't!' 
Don't!  I'll  do  anything!  I  won't  buy  a  stitch  for 
myself.  And  I'll  work  —  I'll  work  my  hands  to  the 
bones !  I  can  earn  something.  But  oh,  don't  sell  dear, 
poor  little  Dixie."  I  leaned  forward  suddenly  and 
burst  into  tears.  "  Oh,  everything  has  always  been 
hard  in  my  life  —  hard,  hard,  hard!"  I  sobbed. 

Alec  came  over  and  stood  in  front  of  me  perfectly 
silent.  He  hadn't  seen  me  go  into  a  passion  like  this 
for  years.  I  could  feel  his  tired  kind  gaze  burrow 
ing  through  my  two  hands  that  covered  my  face. 
I  wished  he  wouldn't  look  so  troubled  and  sad,  for 
though  I  didn't  glance  up,  I  knew  exactly  how  dis 
appointed  in  me  he  was  —  how  shocked  by  my  tears. 
For  a  full  half -minute  he  said  nothing.  He  waited 
until  I  was  perfectly  quiet,  then  he  spoke  very  gently. 

"  Why,  Bobbie  "  he  said,  "  ever  since  the  day  that 
you  came  from  boarding-school  when  Father  was  so 
ill,  and  I  came  into  the  room  and  found  you  strong 
and  calm  and  self-possessed,  ever  since  then  I  have 
thought  of  you  as  my  partner."  He  stopped.  "  But 
perhaps  this  —  this  is  too  much.  Perhaps  — " 

"No,  Alec,"  I  said,  askamed;  "no,  it  isn't  too 
much.  Just  wait  a  minute,  please." 

"  I  will,"  said  Alec  kindly,  and  walked  over  to  the 
window. 

I  guess  it  might  have  been  two  minutes  he  waited. 
His  back  was  toward  me  when  I  mopped  my  eyes, 
when  I  tucked  my  handkerchief  into  the  front  of  my 
shirt-waist  and  stood  up.  I  summoned  all  my 
strength.  Alec  is  my  commander-in-chief,  and  I  tried 
to  rally  my  forces  before  him.  I  must  not  be  a  cow 
ard  before  Alec.  I  took  up  my  sewing. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        89 

"  I  won't  be  so  foolish  again,"  I  remarked  evenly. 
"  You  can  tell  me  anything  now." 

And  my  general  replied,  "  That's  the  sort,"  and 
smiled.  "  As  to  the  twins,"  he  went  on,  taking  me 
at  my  word,  "  here's  a  letter  stating  the  situation  to 
them."  He  gave  a  short  laugh  with  no  joy  in  it. 
"  The  twins'  allowances  are  going  to  be  cut  down 
almost  half!" 

"The  twins!"  I  had  completely  forgotten 
Oliver's  letter.  "  The  twins !  Can't  you  possibly 
—  O  Alec,  college  boys  need  so  much  and  —  Oliver, 
you  know  — " 

"  I'm  tired  of  Oliver's  extravagances,"  burst  forth 
Alec  impatiently.  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  another 
word  from  Oliver  about  money.  If  he  can't  get 
along  on  the  amount  I  am  able  to  send,  he  can  come 
home  and  go  into  the  mill." 

Just  here  the  cheerful  honk-honk  of  Dr.  Maynard's 
automobile  sounded  outside  the  window.  Alec  went 
to  the  door  and  let  him  in.  As  Dr.  Maynard  entered 
the  room  he  brought  in  a  big  breath  of  fall  even 
ing. 

"Hello,"  he  said.  "What  are  you  two  up  to? 
Come  on,  Al,  put  on  an  overcoat  and  come  out  for  a 
run  around  the  reservoir.  I've  got  my  engine  work 
ing  like  a  bird  again." 

"  Thanks,  Will,  wish  I  could,"  said  Alec  with  that 
tired  smile  of  his,  "  but  I've  got  a  lot  of  work  on  hand 
to-night.  I  think  I'll  send  Bobbie." 

"  All  right!  Fine!"  said  Dr.  Maynard,  and  though 
I  didn't  have  much  heart  for  going,  I  knew  that  Alec 
didn't  want  to  talk  with  even  Will  Maynard  to-night, 
so  without  a  word  I  went  for  my  things  that  were 


90        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

hanging  in  what  we  called  the  "  Black  Closet." 
I  was  glad  to  escape  for  a  minute  to  the  protecting 
dark.  I  stood  pressing  up  against  the  old  overcoats 
and  ulsters,  waiting  for  my  eyes  to  appear  less  swol 
len,  and  wondering  why  Oliver  needed  seventy-five 
dollars  by  December  third.  The  vision  of  Oliver  in 
overalls  at  work  in  the  mills,  disgrace,  no  home,  no 
Nellie,  no  Dixie,  rags,  poverty,  wriggled  before  my 
eyes  like  moving  pictures.  I  took  hold  of  the  near 
est  garment  at  hand  and  pressed  it  against  my  face. 
It  happened  to  be  Father's  old  overcoat.  I  recognised 
it  by  the  feeling,  for  often  I  had  groped  for  it  when 
Father  had  been  alive  and  brought  it  out  to  him 
waiting  in  the  hall.  I  reached  up  to-night  and 
touched  the  dear  familiar,  worn,  velvet  collar.  "  O 
Father,"  I  whispered,  "  everything  is  tumbling  down. 
What  shall  I  do  about  Oliver  ?  "  Probably  another 
girl  would  have  breathed  a  little  prayer  to  God  but 
I  make  all  my  requests  of  Father.  It  seems  to  me 
that  Father  is  more  likely  to  take  a  personal  interest 
in  my  affairs  than  any  one  else  in  heaven. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ?  "  Dr.  Maynard  sang  out ; 
and  I  called  back,  "  Coming,"  and  hustled  into  my 
warm  overshoes. 

It  was  a  beautiful  dark  starry  night,  and  I  wished 
Alec  could  have  felt  a  little  of  the  cold  air  on  his 
hot  head.  I  love  an  automobile!  I'm  never  happier 
than  when  I'm  sitting  with  my  two  hands  on  the 
wheel,  one  toe  on  the  gas,  the  other  on  the  brake,  a 
heel  on  the  little  pedal  that  makes  the  old  machine 
snort  up  a  hill  like  a  horse  dug  in  the  side  with  a  spur. 
But  to-night  I  didn't  care  to  run  the  car.  I  suppose 
I  wasn't  a  very  entertaining  companion,  for  on  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        91 

way  home,  after  we  had  been  out  about  an  hour,  Dr. 
Maynard  asked  in  his  friendly  manner: 

"  What  is  it,  Bobbie?  You're  leaving  it  to  me  to 
have  most  of  the  fun  to-night." 

"  Dr.  Maynard,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I'd  give  anything 
in  the  world  if  I  were  a  man  and  could  earn  some 
money." 

"  What  profession  would  you  follow  ?  "  he  laughed 
at  me. 

"  I'm  serious.  Has  Alec  ever  told  you  much  about 
the  business  ?  " 

,    "  Not  much,  but  I  know  he's  been  disturbed  about 
something  lately." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  there's  one  of  those  pictures  in 
that  big  Dore  book  with  illustrations  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment,  that  reminds  me  of  the  Vars'  affairs.  It's  a 
picture  of  Samson,  and  he's  standing  in  a  great  huge 
kind  of  hall,  pushing  down  two  perfectly  enormous 
stone  pillars.  The  walls  and  the  ceiling  and  the  roof 
are  all  caving  in  —  people  headfirst,  arms,  legs,  great 
blocks  of  granite,  children,  men,  —  oh,  everything 
you  can  think  of  —  tumbling  down  in  horrible  con 
fusion.  That  picture  used  to  give  me  the  nightmare; 
and  now  it  seems  to  me  as  if  some  old  giant  of  a 
Samson  had  gotten  down  underneath  us.  All  our 
underpinnings  are  giving  way  and  we're  all  failing 
down  —  headfirst  a  thousand  feet,  smash,  un  to  rock- 
bottom." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Bobbie  ?  "  laughed  Dr 
Maynard,  amused. 

"  I  mean,"  I  replied  —  though  perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  have  told  —  "I  mean,  that  Alec  is  going  to  sell 
the  house  and  Dixie  and  we're  going  to  keep  only  one 


92         BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

girl.     I  mean  that  the  business  is  on  the  ragged  edge 
of  nothing,  and  that  we're  as  poor  as  paupers." 

Dr.  Maynard  slowed  down  our  speed  to  ten  miles 
an  hour. 

"Al's  a  plucky  fellow,"  he  said.  "I  hadn't  an 
idea!  "  Then  he  added,  "  You  want  to  help?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I've  got  to  have  a  lot  of  money 
right  off,  and  I  don't  like  to  ask  Alec.  It's  for  an 
emergency,"  I  added.  "  Can  you  think  of  any  pos 
sible  way  for  a  girl  who  can't  do  a  thing  on  earth 
but  scrub  and  darn  stockings,  to  earn  a  fortune  ?  " 

I  think  we  ran  about  a  mile  before  Dr.  Maynard 
spoke.  Then  when  he  did,  he  seemed  to  be  almost 
apologising  for  his  scheme,  which  seemed  to  me  per* 
•^rtly  lovely. 

Dr.  Maynard  has  stacks  of  money  and  since  his 
mother  died,  lives  all  alone  in  the  big,  white-pillared 
house  where  he  was  born.  Eliza,  their  old  servant, 
takes  care  of  him.  "  But,"  he  explained  to  me, 
"  cooking  and  cleaning  are  Eliza's  strong  points. 
Now  there  are  lots  of  odds  and  ends  she  doesn't  have 
time  for.  She  never  liked  to  sew,  and  I  have  a  pretty 
hard  time  keeping  socks  mended,  and  linen,  and 
towels,  and  such  things  in  good  condition.  I  hire  a 
woman  now  by  the  day  once  in  a  while.  But  I'm 
sure  I'm  way  behind  now.  If  the  scheme  appeals  to 
you  at  all,  I'll  have  Eliza  lay  out  a  pile  of  stuff  that 
needs  a  few  stitches,  and  you  can  sew  on  it  at  odd 
moments.  Just  keep  track  of  your  time  and  I'll  pay 
you  —  well,  you  seem  to  be  a  fairly  busy  person,  I'll 
pay  you  double  what  I'm  paying  now  which  would 
be  about  fifty  cents  an  hour." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        93 

"  Dr.  Maynard,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you're  the  very 
kindest  man  I  ever  knew !  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  broke  in,  "  this  is  purely  a  business 
transaction." 

"  But,"  I  went  on,  "  fifty  cents  is  a  lot  too  much. 
That  would  be  giving  me  money." 

"  Well,  let  it  be  understood,"  he  said,  "  I'm  not 
giving  you  anything.  You're  earning  it  in  just  as 
businesslike  a  manner  as  a  stenographer  —  or  Eliza. 
I'd  like  you  to  keep  an  accurate  account  of  your  time, 
please,  and  send  me  an  itemised  bill.  I  said  fifty  cents 
and  I  stick  to  it.  Shall  I  come  over  to-morrow  with 
your  first  relay  ?  " 

I  thanked  Dr.  Maynard  with  my  whole  heart.  I 
was  so  relieved  I  didn't  know  what  to  do. 

"  Would  you  mind,"  I  said  as  he  opened  the  front 
door  for  me,  "  waiting  just  a  minute  ?  I've  a  note 
upstairs  that  I  wish  you'd  mail  on  your  way  home." 

I  dashed  up  to  my  room,  directed  an  envelope  in  mad 
haste  to  Oliver,  and  on  a  half-sheet  of  note-paper  I 
scratched : 

"  In  spite  of  Alec's  news  I  may  be  able  to  scare  up 
some  of  the  money. 

"  BOBBIE." 

Alec  had  half  a  dozen  letters  for  Dr.  Maynard  to 
mail  also,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  laying  my  note 
to  Oliver  on  top  of  the  announcement  which  cut  his 
allowance  in  half.  After  the  door  had  closed  and 
Alec  and  I  were  alone,  I  went  and  kissed  my  brother 
good-night. 


94        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Good-girl,"  he  said  wearily;  "  the  ride  brightened 
you  up." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied;  "and  I  know  we're  going  to 
come  out  all  right,  Alec."  And  I  felt  that  we  should, 
now  that  I  was  going  to  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 


TWO  days  later  I  received  a  frenzied  reply  to  my 
note  to  Oliver.  The  words  were  underscored, 
smeared,  repeated,  blotted  and  scratched  out.  I  never 
read  such  a  letter.  I  think  Oliver  swore  in  it.  At 
any  rate  my  heart  almost  stood  still  when  the  words 
"  for  God's  sake  "  struck  at  me  like  swords  from  the 
white  paper.  I  knew  at  least  that  Oliver  was  ter 
ribly  in  earnest.  I  read  and  re-read  the  letter,  then 
locked  it  away  in  the  cupola  in  the  lowest  drawer  of 
my  table-desk.  No  one  shall  ever  see  it ;  no  one  shall 
ever  know  what  it  contains  —  no  one  but  Oliver  and 
me.  I  shall  never  tell  Alec,  nor  his  own  twin 
Malcolm,  nor  even  his  wife,  if  he  should  ever  marry. 
This  is  between  Oliver  and  me.  He  had  chosen  to 
tell  his  older  sister  about  his  trouble  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  one  else,  and  she  would  prove  to  him  that 
he  had  rightly  placed  his  faith. 

I  don't  want  to  imply  that  Oliver  had  been  really 
dishonest.  I  am  sure  he  had  not  been  that,  but  it 
seems  that  he  was  treasurer  of  something  or  other 
down  there  at  college,  and  had  boggled  the  accounts. 
He  never  could  keep  money  straight.  Perhaps  he 
had  borrowed  a  little  of  it  —  like  the  bank  clerk  Alec 
told  me  about  —  and  now  suddenly  he  discovered 
there  was  more  of  a  shortage  than  he  could  make 
good.  He  wrote  that  on  December  third  he  must 
make  a  report,  and  if  he  couldn't  account  for  seventy- 
five  dollars  short  in  the  treasury  —  well  —  There  fol- 

95 


96        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

lowed  six  dashes  with  three  exclamation  points  at  the 
end. 

I  wrote  back  I'd  get  that  seventy-five  dollars  for 
him  or  die. 

I  scraped  money  out  of  every  hole  and  corner  I 
could  find.  I  sold  my  lavender  liberty  automobile 
veil  to  Juliet  Adams  for  a  dollar  and  a  half,  and  Ruth 
bought  my  rhinestone  horse-shoe  pin,  which  I  paid 
three-fifty  for,  for  seventy-five  cents.  I  didn't  spend 
a  single  penny  of  my  own  allowance  for  November 
and  begged  Alec  for  five  dollars  which  I  told  him, 
without  a  quiver,  that  I'd  got  to  have  for  the  purpose 
of  buying  some  new  stuff  for  the  kitchen.  But  most 
of  the  money  had  to  come  from  Dr.  Maynard.  I 
sewed  like  mad.  Locked  in  my  bedroom  with  the 
alarm-clock  keeping  track  of  my  time  I  simply  de 
voured  holes.  I  was  like  a  hungry  animal.  I 
couldn't  get  enough  of  them  —  and  the  bigger  they 
were  the  better  they  satisfied  me.  Socks  by  the 
dozens ;  table-clothes  gnawed  by  rats ;  napkins  worn  to 
shreds;  blankets  to  be  rebound;  sheets  to  be  hemmed; 
anything  that  required  a  needle,  I  welcomed  with 
rejoicing. 

But  of  course  a  man  doesn't  need  more  than  three 
dozen  socks  on  hand,  five  dozen  perfectly  whole 
towels  and  ten  table-clothes.  There  is  an  end  to  a 
bachelor's  equipment,  and  even  after  I  had  finished 
mending  with  gummed  paper  a  whole  music-rack  full 
of  old  sheet-music  Dr.  Maynard  used  to  sing,  I  had 
earned  only  twenty  dollars. 

I  was  very  unhappy  when  Dr.  Maynard  passed  me 
my  last  receipted  bill.  He  was  looking  at  me  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        97 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  does  this  close  our  business 
transactions  ?  Are  you  all  fixed  up  now  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head  and  blushed,  ashamed  somehow 
to  be  in  need  of  so  much  money. 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  I  hastened  to  say,  "  that  there's  no 
more  work  you  can  give  me,  and  I  do  thank  you  —  I 
do  really." 

"  Let's  see,"  Dr.  Maynard  said.  "  Let's  see. 
What  kind  of  a  hand  do  you  write?  If  it's  plain  and 
legible,  I  don't  know  but  what  I'll  engage  you  to  copy 
some  old  letters  of  my  mother's  —  written  to  me 
when  I  was  a  small  boy  at  school.  The  ink  is  fading 
and  I  want  them  preserved." 

"  Dr.  Maynard,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  don't  know  what 
I'd  do  if  it  wasn't  for  you!"  There  were  almost 
tears  in  my  eyes  I  was  so  grateful. 

"  Nonsense,"  he  laughed.  "  But  what  do  you  want 
so  much  money  for?" 

"  A  bill  —  for  some  dresses  I  had  made,  and  I 
don't  want  to  bother  Alec." 

Dr.  Maynard  gave  a  long  low  whistle. 

"  Oh,    I    see."     Then    quite    seriously    he    added 
"  Better  tell  him,  Bobbie." 

"  Dr.  Maynard,"  I  said,  "  if  you  mention  one  single 
word  of  this  to  Alec,  you  don't  know  the  harm  you'll 
do.  You  don't  know!"  Why,  if  Alec  had  gotten 
wind  of  what  Oliver  had  done,  there  wouldn't  be  a 
scrap  of  lenience  shown  that  poor  twin.  It  would 
mean  clattering  looms  for  Oliver,  as  surely  as  thf 
electric  chair  for  a  murderer;  and  I  was  absolutely 
fierce  in  my  determination  that  that  brother  of  mine 
should  graduate  from  college,  as  well  as  all  the  others. 
Before  Dr.  Maynard  went  home  that  afternoon  he  had 


98        BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

promised  he  would  not  tell  Alec  a  word  about  our 
business  transactions. 

I  enjoyed  the  copying.  Dr.  Maynard's  mother 
must  have  been  a  perfectly  lovely  woman.  She  used 
to  write  to  her  son  every  Sunday,  and  oh,  such  sweet 
companionable  little  notes  —  all  about  what  was  going 
'-on  in  the  town,  and  always  at  the  end  just  a  sentence 
or  two  about  honour  and  ideals,  and  how  she  believed 
in  her  son  and  missed  him.  If  Oliver  had  had  a 
mother  to  write  to  him  like  that  —  to  tell  him  how 
she  wanted  him  to  grow  up  in  the  image  of  his  hon 
oured  father  who  had  died,  who  rejoiced  at  every 
success  he  had,  who  sympathised  at  every  failure  — 
if  Oliver  had  had  a  mother  to  write  him  letters  every 
Sunday  evening  by  the  firelight,  I  don't  believe  he 
would  have  ever  gotten  into  such  a  difficulty.  I  won 
dered  if  mothers  wrote  letters  like  these  to  their 
daughters.  Of  course  they  must. 

Every  once  in  a  while,  I  would  run  across  a  refer 
ence  to  my  own  mother  (for  Mrs.  Maynard  was  her 
neighbour)  and,  really,  it  was  a  little  like  seeing  her 
for  just  a  minute. 

I  know  I'm  neglecting  my  story,  but  I  must  tell 
about  one  special  letter  of  Mrs.  Maynard's,  because 
it  referred  to  me.  It  didn't  happen  to  be  written  to 
ler  son  but  to  a  woman  friend  whom  I  didn't  know. 
It  was  a  chatty  letter,  that  related  all  the  important 
events  and  happenings  in  the  town,  very  long  and 
full  of  the  littlest  details  you  can  imagine.  It  was  on 
the  fourth  thin  sheet  that  I  ran  across  this :  "  And  our 
dear  neighbour  Mrs.  Vars  has  a  little  daughter  three 
weeks  old,"  I  deciphered.  "  She  has  named  her 
Lucy  for  herself.  I  went  in  to  see  her  last  week  and 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER        99 

took  her  a  jar  of  my  quince  jelly.  She  is  a  very 
happy  woman.  She  has  always  wanted  a  little  girl. 
When  she  took  the  little  baby  in  her  arms  she  said 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  '  My  little  daughter  and  I  are 
going  to  be  "  best  friends  "  all  our  lives. ' 

I  read  that  precious  sentence  over  and  over  again. 
My  mother  and  I  '  best  friends  all  our  lives  '  —  and 
oh,  I  couldn't  remember  her  smile.  *  Best  friends  all 
our  lives '  —  and  she  had  gone  before  we  could  share 
a  single  secret.  I  leaned  right  forward  over  my  copy 
ing  and  cried,  "  If  you'd  lived  I  wouldn't  care  if  we 
were  poor.  If  you  and  I  were  '  best  friends/  I 
wouldn't  care  if  I  never  had  a  good  time.  Oh,  if  you 
were  here!  If  you  were  here!" 

And  yet,  although  I  cried  so  hard,  I  was  strangely 
happy  that  evening.  Of  course  I  don't  believe  in 
miracles.  They  don't  happen  nowadays,  and  yet  it 
seems  almost  as  if  my  mother  might  have  sent  that 
message  to  me,  to  console  me  in  my  struggle,  to  tell 
me  that  I  wasn't  all  alone.  I  gazed  at  her  picture  — 
the  only  one  she  had  ever  had  taken  —  under  its  cold 
glass  over  my  bed,  before  I  went  to  sleep  that  night. 
It  is  a  profile,  clear-cut  and  a  little  sad.  They  tell  me 
she  was  only  nineteen  in  the  picture  —  my  age,  just 
my  age  now. 

i     "  My  best  friend,"  I  whispered,  "  my  best  friend  all 

'my  life!" 

As  the  dreary  days  wore  on,  all  the  sympathy  that  I 
possessed  yearned  over  my  patient  brother  Alec.  But 
I  couldn't  help  him  any.  Time  and  time  again  I  tried 
to  cheer  him  up,  but  my  attempts  fell  flat.  There  was 
a  time  when  Alec  used  to  go  out  among  the  young 
people  in  Hilton  quite  a  good  deal,  but  I  observed  that 


ioo      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

lately  he  had  nothing  but  business  engagements 
to  take  him  away. 

Alec  had  never  talked  to  me  about  a  certain  young 
lady  named  Edith  Campbell  —  I  don't  know  that  he 
had  ever  mentioned  her  name  to  me  —  but  I  knew 
that  he  had  always  entertained  a  sneaking  admiration 
for  her.  Since  father  died  he  hadn't  seen  her  so 
much  and  I  had  been  glad  of  it.  I  don't  like  Edith 
Campbell.  There  is  so  much  show  about  her,  and  she 
always  contrives  to  make  Alec  look  so  forlorn  and 
pathetic.  I  remember  one  morning  not  long  after 
Alec's  serious  talk  with  me,  that  he  went  out  of  the 
door  gloomier  than  ever  with  his  green  felt  bag  filled 
with  the  ledgers  that  he'd  been  working  over  till  mid 
night.  Just  as  he  was  going  down  the  front  steps 
who  should  appear  but  Edith  Campbell  in  a  sporty 
little  rig,  driving  a  new  cob  of  hers  —  round  and 
plump  and  shiny.  She  had  some  little  out-of-town 
whippersnapper  of  a  man  beside  her,  and  as  she  drew 
her  horse  to  a  standstill  right  by  Alec,  she  looked  trig 
and  sporty  enough  for  the  front  cover  of  a  magazine. 
She  gave  Alec  a  play  salute  from  the  brim  of  her 
perky  little  hat,  and  my  poor  tired  brother  took  off 
his  limp  grey  felt.  He  went  over  and  leaned  one 
hand  on  the  horse's  brilliant  flank,  and  gazed  up  at 
Edith.  His  overcoat  that  used  to  be  black  looked 
greenish  in  the  bright  sunlight  and  the  velvet  collar 
was  worn  about  the  edges. 

"  Hello,  Al  Vars ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Campbell.  I 
could  hear  her  through  the  open  door,  hidden  behind 
the  lace.  "  I  haven't  seen  you  for  one  age.  You 
ought  to  come  out  of  that  shell  of  yours.  Al  used 
to  be  a  pal  of  mine,"  she  laughed  to  the  man  beside 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       101 

her  and  introduced  them.  The  stiffly-starched  little 
out-of-town  man  gave  Alec  a  hand  gloved  in  yellow 
dog-skin  and  Alec  turned  and  said  something  I 
couldn't  hear  to  Miss  Campbell.  She  called  her  re 
ply  back  over  her  shoulder  as  she  drove  off.  "  Sorry, 
Al.  Can't.  Too  bad.  I'm  going  to  Florida  with 
Mother  and  Dad  for  the  winter  next  week !  " 

Alec  stood  forlorn  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
watching  her  descend  the  hill.  The  back  of  the 
highly-shellaced  little  waggonette  flashed  in  the  sun 
light.  Miss  Campbell  sat  erect,  sleek  as  her  horse. 
My  feelings  grew  savage  against  her,  and  when  Alec 
finally  shifted  the  heavy  green  bag  to  the  other  hand 
and  moved  slowly  off  down  the  street  toward  the  fac 
tory  I  wanted  to  run  after  him  and  tell  him  she  wasn't 
worth  a  single  thought  of  his.  I  wished  that  my  life- 
Jong  devotion  might  make  up  for  this  single  morning's 
sting  of  Edith  Campbell's  heartless  exhibition  of  pros 
perity.  But  it  couldn't.  It  couldn't  break  through 
my  brother's  brooding  silence  for  even  an  interval. 

Ruth  took  our  change  of  circumstances  very  phil 
osophically  at  first.  Ruth  is  sixteen  now,  and  awfully 
pretty.  She  has  boy-callers  about  three  times  a  week. 
She's  very  popular.  She  can  sing  like  a  little  prima- 
donna,  and  can  dance  a  cake-walk  like  a  young 
vaudeville  performer.  The  twins  think  Ruth  is  the 
cleverest  little  creature  alive.  She's  a  very  independ 
ent  sort  of  girl.  No  one  can  give  any  advice  to  Ruth 
on  what  is  the  proper  thing  for  her  to  wear;  no  one 
can  tell  her  what  is  the  correct  way  for  girls  of  sixteen 
to  act ;  at  least,  7  can't.  Ruth  loves  fashion  and  style. 
She  was  glad  to  have  Alec  dispose  of  Dixie. 

"  Why,"  she  said  to  me  in  her  little  sophisticated 


102      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

way,  "  Dixie  is  eating  his  head  off,  and  he  limps! 
I'd  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  at  a  funeral  driving  Dixie  I 
You  may  have  noticed  /  never  use  him."  She  was 
delighted  to  learn  that  Alec  was  going  to  sell  the 
house.  "  For  he  says,"  she  announced  to  me  glee 
fully,  "  that  perhaps  now  we  can  live  in  one  of  those 
darling  little  shingled  houses  on  the  south  side. 
Those  houses  have  the  loveliest  little  dens  in  them 
with  a  stained-glass  window,  where  I  could  have  my 
callers.  I  just  hate  the  parlour  here.  There's  a  big 
new  crack  over  the  marble  mantel,  and  I  have  a  dread 
ful  time  making  people  sit  with  their  backs  to  it." 

"  And  Nellie  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  Good  riddance,  I  think.  She's  the  bane  of  my 
life,  and  she  hasn't  a  scrap  of  style.  She's  been  here 
so  long  she  thinks  she  can  boss  me  as  if  she  were  my 
mother." 

Ruth's  chief  source  of  sorrow  was  the  announce 
ment  that  she  couldn't  attend  dancing-school.  That 
brought  the  tears  and  for  three  days  she'd  hardly 
speak  a  word.  When  I  told  her  that  she  ought  to  be 
cheerful  for  Alec's  sake,  she  slammed  the  door  in 
my  face  and  told  me  not  to  preach. 

I  am  afraid  Ruth  and  I  aren't  very  congenial 
sisters.  I  try  very  hard  to  be  helpful  and  sympa 
thetic,  for  Ruth,  of  course,  is  as  motherless  as  I  am. 
But  she's  a  difficult  younger  sister.  She  never 
wanted  me  to  take  her  to  places  when  she  was  a  little 
girl.  She  hates  to  be  petted.  It  troubles  me  a  little 
to  think  we  aren't  closer  friends,  because  we  each  are 
the  only  sister  in  the  world  that  the  other  has. 

It  was  Ruth  who  stepped  in  and  upset  my  whole 
scheme  with  Dr.  Maynard.  She  can  be  dreadfully 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      103 

annoying,  and  cause  as  much  trouble  as  any  grown 
up  person  I  ever  knew.  It  was  when  I  was  within 
ten  dollars  of  the  end  of  my  struggle.  I  had  finished 
the  copying,  and  now  I  was  working  Dr.  Maynard's 
initials  on  about  everything  that  that  man  owned. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  and  Juliet  Adams, 
who  had  come  down  from  college  to  spend  Sunday 
with  her  family  (Juliet  goes  to  a  girl's  big  college 
now),  had  dropped  over  to  see  me.  I  was  sitting  by 
the  west  window  sewing  on  some  things  of  my  own, 
for  of  course  all  Dr.  Maynard's  work  I  was  careful 
to  do  in  private.  Ruth  was  upstairs  getting  dressed 
to  go  out  to  a  party  with  one  of  her  numerous  boy 
friends.  Suddenly,  with  her  hair  down  her  back, 
and  dressed  only  in  her  white  petticoat  and  dressing- 
sack,  she  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Got  a  thimble  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  want  to  baste 
in  a  niching,"  and  without  asking  leave  she  grabbed 
my  work-bag  that  was  on  the  couch.  It  was  open 
and  she  caught  hold  of  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  con 
tents  all  went  tumbling  out  on  the  floor.  A  dozen 
new  socks  done  up  in  balls,  on  which  I  had  been  work 
ing  initials,  rolled  out  in  all  directions.  The  red 
monogram  stared  me  in  the  face. 

"  I'll  pick  them  up,"  I  said  hurriedly,  but  Ruth  was 
too  quick  for  me  and  she  pounced  upon  them  before 
I  could  stop  her.  Very  little  of  importance  escapes 
Ruth. 

"  W.  F.  M. !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Who's  that?  W. 
F.  M. !  As  I  live,  on  every  one  of  them !  Who's 
W.  F.  M.  ?  "  She  unrolled  one  pair.  "  Men's  socks 
too,"  she  said,  holding  them  up  to  plain  view.  "  W. 
F.  M. ! "  Then  suddenly  she  broke  into  hilarious 


104      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

laughter.  "  I  have  it !  "  she  burst  out,  waving  the 
socks  over  her  head  and  triumphantly  dancing  around 
the  room.  "William  Ford  Maynard!  W.  F.  M. 
William  Ford  Maynard !  " 

"  Stop,  Ruth !  "  I  cried,  my  old  anger  beginning  to 
surge  up  in  me.  "  Stop,  I  tell  you !  " 

But  Ruth  was  deaf  to  me.  She  simply  kept  on 
tearing  around  the  room  like  a  wild  Indian.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Mrs.  Maynard,"  she  shouted  at  me  in  silly 
school-girl  fashion,  and  amidst  her  mad  laughter  sang 
out,  full  of  derision,  "  Juliet,  let  me  introduce  Mrs. 
William  Ford  Maynard !  " 

I  was  standing  up  in  a  minute  and  was  at  Ruth  with 
all  my  might  and  main.  I  was  firing  mad. 

"  Ruth  Chenery  Vars,"  I  cried,  "  stop,  stop,  STOP!  " 
and  then  suddenly  there  was  Alec  standing  quietly  in 
the  doorway  in  his  overcoat  and  hat. 

Ruth  and  I  went  out  like  flames. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  an  instant,  then  Alec 
asked  quietly: 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  " 

Ruth  answered  him. 

"  I  tipped  over  Lucy's  work-bag  and  all  these  men's 
socks  fell  out.  Every  one  of  them  is  marked  with 
Dr.  Maynard's  initials,  and  Lucy  got  mad  because  I 
made  fun  of  her." 

"  Will's  initials,  Lucy?"  asked  Alec  perplexed. 

"Yes,  W.  F.  M.,"  went  on  Ruth  delightedly. 
"  See  ?  "  She  gave  the  socks  to  Alec.  "  Nobody  is 
W.  F.  M.  in  this  town,  but  William  Ford  Maynard/' 
she  finished  and  sat  down  on  the  piano-stool  in  a  sat 
isfied  way,  as  if  she  had  cleared  herself  of  any  blame, 
and  now  was  ready  for  some  fun. 


105 

I  think  it  was  here  that  Juliet  got  up  and  slipped 
out  of  the  room.  Anyhow  I  know  she  wasn't  there 
during  the  whole  interview. 

"  Well,  Lucy?  "  said  Alec,  looking  at  me. 

"  I  was  paid  for  it,"  I  exclaimed.  "  I  was  paid  for 
every  single  initial  and  every  single  stitch  I  ever  took 
for  him!  Oh,  there  was  nothing  sentimental  about 
it.  Ruth  makes  me  sick!  I  did  it  simply  to  earn 
money." 

Alec  looked  down  at  the  initials. 

"  How  much  were  you  paid  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  was  paid,"  I  went  on,  still  on  the  defensive,  "  I 
was  paid  fifty  cents  an  hour.  It  was  all  business 
from  beginning  to  end.  Oh,  there  was  nothing  silly 
in  it!" 

"Fifty  cents  an  hour?"  Alec  repeated. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  said.  "  Ruth  is  absurd.  I  made  out 
bills  and  receipts  and  everything.  It  was  absolutely 
businesslike." 

"  And  how  much  has  Will  already  given  you?" 

The  colour  for  some  reason  rose  to  my  cheeks. 
Alec  looked  as  if  he  wasn't  pleased  and  I  was  sud 
denly  ashamed. 

"  About  —  sixty  dollars,"  I  murmured. 

"Sixty  dollars!"  Alec  flashed.  "Why  did  you 
need  so  much  money  ?  "  he  asked  me  sternly. 

I  saw  my  danger  then.  It  was  as  if  I  had  had  my 
hands  on  the  steering-wheel  of  Dr.  Maynard's  auto 
mobile,  and  suddenly  saw  an  enormous  limousine 
headed  for  me  around  a  curve. 

"  Why,"  I  stammered,  trying  to  keep  calm,  "  I 
thought  the  business  was  doing  so  —  poorly,  that  I 


io6      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Why  did  you  think  it  necessary  not  to  tell  me 
about  this  —  enterprise  of  yours?"  asked  Alec. 

The  limousine  kept  coming  straight  for  me,  you  see. 

I  hesitated  just  a  moment.  I  had  no  idea  of  tell 
ing  about  Oliver.  After  you've  worked  for  a  cause, 
you'll  protect  it  if  it  kills  you.  But  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  which  way  to  turn,  and  I  had  to  act  quickly. 
An  inspiration  came  to  me.  It  wasn't  a  good  one, 
but  I  was  excited. 

"  I  borrowed  seventy-five  dollars  from  the  House 
hold  Account.  I  had  a  dressmaker's  bill  of  my  own 
to  pay  that  had  stood  a  long  while,  and  so  —  now  I'm 
trying  to  make  it  up." 

Alec  dropped  the  socks  as  if  they  had  been  hot. 
He  didn't  say  a  single  word.  He  just  stood  there  and 
stared  and  stared.  I  glanced  up  for  a  fleeting  sec 
ond  and  Alec's  eyes  were  terrible.  The  vision  of 
them  remained  with  me  for  days,  just  as  the  image 
of  the  sun  will  dance  before  your  eyes  after  you  have 
gazed  at  its  piercing  light  for  an  instant.  I  turned 
and  looked  quickly  out  of  the  window.  The  clock  in 
the  hall  struck  five.  I  counted  it  to  myself.  The 
last  stroke  died  away,  and  still  Alec  stood  and  stared. 
He  seemed  to  be  willing  me  to  bow  down  in  remorse 
and  shame.  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  tried  and  I 
couldn't.  I  wasn't  guilty  —  oh,  no,  Alec,  I  wasn't 
guilty  —  but  suddenly  a  hot  wave  spread  over  me  up 
to  my  temples  and  I  hung  my  head  before  my 
brother's  condemning  gaze. 

He  turned  away  then,  and  without  a  word  went 
out  into  the  hall. 

I  didn't  know  a  silence  could  be  so  eloquent;  I 
didn't  know  a  silence  could  hurt.  It  sobered  even 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      107 

Ruth.  She  slunk  quietly  upstairs.  And  when  I  dis 
covered  I  was  quite  alone,  I  drew  a  long  breath. 
Then  I  got  up,  gathered  the  poor  socks  that  had 
caused  so  much  trouble  together  in  a  pile  and  put 
them  back  into  my  work-bag. 

I  didn't  go  down  to  supper  that  night.  Alec 
knocked  on  my  bedroom  door  about  nine  o'clock,  and 
came  in. 

"  Please  put  the  household  check-book  on  my  desk," 
he  said  shortly ;  "  I  will  take  charge  of  it  hereafter." 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied,  perfectly  calm ;  and  a  thick 
heavy  curtain  fell  quietly  down  between  Alec  and 
me  like  the  curtain  after  the  last  act  at  the  theatre. 


HOW  can  I  tell  about  the  days  that  followed — • 
black,  blinding  days  with  Alec's  silent  displeas 
ure  following  me  wherever  I  went,  Ruth  looking  at 
me  askance  and  avoiding  an  encounter,  and  I,  firm, 
uncommunicative,  and  dismal  as  the  grave? 

To  save  Oliver  from  disgrace  cost  me  a  big  price. 
I  paid  Alec's  confidence  and  respect  to  buy  Oliver's 
honour.  Sisters  ought  not  to  have  preferences  among 
their  brothers,  but,  Father,  you  know,  you  —  before 
whom  now  there  is  no  deceiving  or  pretending  — 
you  know  that  there  is  no  one  in  the  world  to  me 
like  Alec.  Why,  Oliver  and  I  used  to  fight  like  cats 
and  dogs.  Ruth  is  Oliver's  favourite.  I  don't  know 
why  I  was  putting  myself  to  so  much  trouble  for 
Oliver,  breaking  my  heart  to  save  his  reputation. 
Father  would  have  put  Oliver  into  the  mills;  Tom 
would  have  put  him  there ;  Alec  also ;  but  at  night 
when  I  look  at  the  sad  profile  over  my  bed,  that  face 
which  only  until  lately  had  been  simply  an  old-fash 
ioned  picture  of  my  mother,  I  wonder  what  she  would 
have  done.  I  know  Mrs.  Maynard  would  have  sold 
her  soul  to  protect  her  son's  reputation.  Perhaps  I 
was  saving  Oliver  from  disgrace  for  the  sake  of  my 
"  best  friend."  At  any  rate  there  was  no  going  back 
now. 

Meal-time  of  course  was  dreadful.  There  \vas  no 
connected  conversation.  The  clatter  of  the  skimpy 
general-housework  girl,  as  she  piled  up  our  plates 

108 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       109 

and  took  them  away,  was  more  annoying  than  ever, 
when  we  all  simply  sat  and  listened.  *It's  a  difficult 
thing,  too,  to  ask  for  the  bread,  and  avoid  glancing 
at  the  person  who  passes  it.  I  didn't  join  Alec  in  the 
sitting-room  any  more  by  the  drop-light;  I  didn't 
hurry  downstairs  to  meet  him  at  noon;  I  didn't  ask 
him  if  he  were  tired. 

"  Please,  Alec,  say  something! "  I  said,  almost 
desperate,  at  the  end  of  the  third  day. 

I  didn't  know  Alec  could  be  so  hard  and  unfor 
giving.  His  reply  made  me  feel  awfully  sympa 
thetic  and  kind  toward  Oliver,  or  any  one  else  who 
might  have  made  a  mistake.  It  seems  that,  besides 
shattering  my  brother's  entire  confidence  in  my 
honesty,  I  had  shocked  his  sense  of  propriety  in  ac 
cepting  money  from  Dr.  Maynard.  To  call  it  a  busi 
ness  transaction  appealed  to  Alec  as  absolutely  ab 
surd.  He  assured  me  that  he  was  going  to  pay  every 
cent  of  Will's  money  back  to  him.  I  started  to  re 
ply,  but  Alec  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  away. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it,  Lucy.  Let  us  not 
argue  about  a  matter  in  which  your  honesty  and  re 
liability  is  so  involved.  I  had  such  faith  in  you!  I 
could  have  forgiven  you  your  lack  of  pride  —  your 
utter  ignorance  of  the  proprieties  in  spite  of  your  nine 
teen  years,  in  accepting  sixty  dollars  from  a  friend! 
But  you  have  been  dishonest.  You  knew  as  well  as 
I  the  seriousness  of  your  offence  when  you  borrowed 
from  the  Household  Account  placed  in  your  name  at 
the  bank.  No,  please,  do  not  answer  me.  For  what 
is  there  for  you  to  say?  " 

I  didn't  know.  I  went  upstairs  —  not  to  cry,  not 
to  grieve,  but  to  sit  down  in  my  black  walnut  rocker 


no      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

by  the  window  and  think  bitter  thoughts.  I  didn't 
care  if  I  had  been  improper;  I  didn't  care  if  Alec  was 
unjust  and  willing  to  believe  the  worst  of  me;  /  didn't 
care!  I  had  sixty  good,  crisp  dollars  tucked  safely 
away  in  a  little  chamois  bag  in  the  bandbox  where 
I  keep  my  best  Sunday-go-to-meeting  hat,  and  when 
my  allowance  came  due  on  December  first  I  should 
have  seventy -five.  I  didn't  care  if  all  the  world 
turned  against  me.  I  had  accomplished  what  I  had 
set  out  to  do,  and  no  one  could  rob  me  of  my  victory 
anyhow. 

I  had  it  all  planned  that  on  December  first  I  would 
deposit  the  seventy-five  dollars  in  the  bank  and  make 
out  a  check  for  Oliver  immediately.  But  something 
happened  which  made  quicker  action  necessary. 

When  December  third,  Oliver's  fateful  day,  was 
about  a  \veek  off  I  received  another  letter  from  him. 
In  his  haste,  in  directing  it,  he  had  omitted  the  state, 
and  the  letter  had  travelled  to  a  Hilton,  New  York, 
which  I  never  knew  was  on  the  map,  before  it  found 
its  way  to  me  three  days  later. 

"  The  business  meeting  has  been  set  forward  to  No 
vember  twenty-sixth,  so  you  better  send  the  check  on 
the  twenty- fourth,  at  the  latest.  You've  been  a  trump 
to  get  it  for  me,  and  if  you're  good,  I'll  have  both  you 
and  Ruth  down  for  a  game  sometime,  with  a  spread  in 
my  room." 

I  didn't  read  any  farther.  I  reached  for  my 
calendar.  I  found  the  twenty-sixth.  I  followed  the 
column  up  to  the  days  of  the  week.  Yes  —  as  sure 
as  I  was  alive  —  Saturday !  To-day  was  Saturday. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       ill 

To-day  was  November  twenty-sixth!  Oliver  must 
have  seventy-five  dollars  to-day! 

It  was  nine  o'clock.  Alec  was  at  the  factory. 
Ruth  was  not  in  the  house.  I  went  down  to  the  roll- 
top  desk  and  found  a  timetable.  There  was  a  train 
at  nine-fifty.  It  didn't  take  me  an  instant  to  decide 
that  I  would  deliver  that  money  to  Oliver  myself.  I 
would  go  down  to  that  college  town,  hunt  that  boy 
up,  and  place  my  little  packet  of  seventy -five  hard- 
earned  dollars  in  his  hands. 

I  put  on  my  hat  and  coat  —  the  same  old  black 
coat,  by  the  way,  that  I  had  had  dyed  when  Father 
left  us  —  instructed  the  general-housework  girl  to  tell 
Alec  that  I  wouldn't  be  home  for  lunch,  and  hurried 
over  to  Dr.  Maynard's.  I  buried  all  the  pride  I  ever 
had  (which  Alec  had  said  was  a  small  amount)  and 
pulled  the  big  front  bell.  I  was  glad  when  Eliza  said 
the  doctor  was  in.  I  had  never  called  there  before, 
and  I  refused  to  enter  even  the  hall.  I  had  come  to 
beg  for  money  and  it  seemed  more  correct  to  stand  on 
the  doorstep.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  after  Alec's 
cutting  speech  that  I  would  never  take  another  cent 
from  Dr.  Maynard  as  long  as  I  lived.  But  I  had 
to,  you  see.  My  allowance  wasn't  due  for  five  days. 
I  simply  had  to  have  nineteen  dollars  immediately 
—  four  for  my  railroad  fare  and  fifteen  for  Oliver. 
I  wasn't  going  to  have  that  twin  even  fifteen  dollars 
dishonest.  I  \vasn't  going  to  fail  now,  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  even  if  it  cost  my  reputation. 

"  Hello,"  said  Dr.  Maynard  in  the  doorway. 
"Good  morning!  It  isn't  often  I  have  calls  from 
young  ladies  so  early.  Come  in !  " 

"No,"    I    replied.     "No,    thanks."     I    stopped    a 


112      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

minute  then  I  said,  "  I  know  you'll  be  very  much 
surprised.  I  know  I'm  going  to  do  a  very  improper 
thing.  I  must  seem  to  have  no  pride  at  all,  but  — 
but  —  can  you  lend  me  nineteen  dollars  ? "  My 
cheeks  were  burning  red.  Dr.  Maynard  folded  his 
arms  and  leaned  up  against  the  casement  of  the  door. 
I  could  see  him  smiling.  "  I'll  pay  you  back,"  I  went 
on  bravely,  "  in  four  days  —  at  least  fifteen  dollars 
of  it.  The  rest  I  can  give  you  on  January  first." 

Dr.  Maynard  sat  down  on  the  doorstep  and  made  a 
place  for  me. 

"  Sit  down,  Bobbie,"  he  said. 

"I  can't,"  I  replied;  "I'm  in  a  hurry." 

Dr.  Maynard  stood  up  again  —  he's  always  very 
polite  with  me  —  and  refolded  his  arms. 

"  Alec  came  over  last  night,"  he  went  on,  "  and  it 
seems,  Lucy,  that  Al  didn't  approve  of  our  little 
game.  He  took  it  a  little  more  seriously  than  we 
did,  and  perhaps  it's  better,  after  all,  if  you're  in  any 
sort  of  difficulty  to  go  straight  to  your  brother,  if 
you've  got  as  good  a  one  as  Alec." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  lend  it  to  me  ? "  I  asked 
point-blank. 

"  Well,  now,  you  see,"  Dr.  Maynard  smiled,  "  Al 
didn't  tell  me  the  story,  but  he  implied  that  you  had 
explained  the  whole  thing  to  him;  and  of  course, 
Bobbie,  if  he,  your  brother,  doesn't  approve  of  your 
cause  — " 

"  I  told  him  a  lie,"  I  interrupted ;  "  I  told  him  I'd 
just  the  same  as  stolen  seventy-five  dollars  from  the 
Household  Account,  which  he  put  me  in  charge  of; 
and  I  haven't  at  all.  I  simply  haven't!  I  shan't  ever 
need  any  more  money  after  to-day.  I'll  never  ask 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      113 

another  favour  after  this,  but  I've  got  to  have  it. 
I've  got  to!  If  it  would  do  any  good  to  get  down 
on  my  knees  and  beg,  I'd  do  it.  But  it  seems  to  me 
when  I  debase  myself  by  asking  you  for  money  right 
out  of  a  clear  sky,  you  must  know  it's  awfully  im 
portant.  Alec  tells  me  I've  been  improper  even  to 
earn  money  from  a  friend.  It  must  be  worse  to  beg 
it.  But  I  don't  care  —  I  don't  care  —  just  so  you 
give  it  to  me,  and  quick,  because  I've  got  to  take  a 
train." 

Dr.  Maynard  looked  very  sober  and  serious  for 
him. 

"Can't  you  tell  me  what  you  need  it  for?"  he 
asked. 

For  a  moment  I  was  tempted,  but  men  are  so  queer 
and  severe  with  boys  who  make  mistakes,  so  terribly 
correct  about  honesty,  how  did  I  know  but  perhaps 
Dr.  Maynard,  too,  would  think  Oliver  ought  to  go 
into  the  mills. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  can't,"  I  said;  "I  wish  I  could, —  but,  I'm 
sorry,  I  can't." 

."  How  much  do  you  need  for  your  railroad  fare  ?  " 
he  inquired,  irrelevantly,  and  when  I  had  told  him 
he  asked,  "  And  what  time  does  your  train  leave  ?  " 

"  At  nine-fifty,"  I  burst  out  impatiently ;  "  and  I 
shall  lose  it  if  you  don't  hurry.  We  are  wasting  time. 
Oh,  please  decide  quickly." 

He  didn't  answer  for  a  minute.  He  was  biting 
his  under  lip,  beneath  his  moustache,  and  gazing  far 
away  beyond  my  head.  His  arms  were  still 
folded. 

"Four     dollars;     the     nine-fifty,"     he     contem- 


114      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

plated  outloud,   unmindful  of  my  precious  minutes. 

The  frown  between  his  eyes  looked  dreadfully  un 
favourable  to  me.  I  stepped  toward  him,  and  look 
ing  up  to  him  on  the  step  above  I  said,  "  Dr.  May- 
nard,  I  copied  all  those  letters  of  your  mother's,  and 
(it  seems  as  if  I  almost  knew  her  now.  I  just  know 
she  would  think  my  cause  was  worthy." 

Dr.  Maynard  simply  adored  his  mother,  and  I  sup 
pose  it  was  the  sudden  thought  of  her  that  brought 
a  kind  of  mist  into  his  eyes.  He  stepped  down  be 
side  me,  took  out  his  leather  bill-book,  and  passed  me 
two  ten-dollar  bills.  "  Then,  Bobbie,  here  it  is !  "  he 
said  gravely. 

I  thanked  him  quietly,  opened  my  bag,  and  put  them 
away. 

I  have  always  thought  Dr.  Maynard  was  a  mind- 
reader.  His  next  speech  simply  staggered  me. 

"  I  should  go  to  the  train  immediately,"  he  said ; 
"  the  nine-fifty  will  be  crowded  this  morning,  with 
people  going  to  the  game.  And  by  the  way,  if  by 
any  chance,  you  have  a  notion  of  passing  through  any 
college  town  on  the  day  of  a  big  football  game,  you'll 
find  it  very  confusing.  Why  not  let  me  go  with 
you?  I'll  ask  no  questions.  Or  will  the  twins  meet 
you?" 

"  How  did  you  know?  How  did  you  guess?"  was 
on  the  tip  of  my  tongue;  but  I  replied  instead,  "  Oh, 
thank  you.  I  must  go  alone.  I  shall  be  back  by 
dark  —  and  —  and  some  one  will  meet  me,"  I 
stammered. 

All  the  way  to  the  station  I  kept  thinking,  "  Why 
couldn't  Alec  have  believed  me  worthy  of  good  mo 
tives  too  ?  Why  couldn't  Alec  have  surmised  and  un- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       115 

derstood?  Why  couldn't  it  have  been  my  brother 
who  trusted  and  had  faith  ?  " 

Before  I  bought  my  ticket  I  sent  a  telegram  to 
Oliver,  so  he  wouldn't  be  passing  away  with  anxiety. 
<(  Coming  to-day.  Bobbie  "  I  said,  and  five  minutes 
later  sank  into  a  seat  in  the  train  with  a  sigh  of  re 
lief. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  the  last  friendly, 
blue-coated  policeman  left  me  with  a  pleasant  nod 
near  the  end  of  my  destination.  I  didn't  have  a  bit 
of  difficulty  changing  trains,  crossing  Boston  and 
weaving  my  way  in  and  out  and  up  and  down  a 
labyrinth  of  subway  passages  and  various  street-car 
lines.  Everybody  was  awfully  helpful  and  as  long 
as  I  have  a  tongue  I  could  travel  around  the  world, 
I  believe,  without  the  least  bit  of  trouble.  It  wasn't 
until  I  neared  the  end  of  my  journey  that  I  felt  any 
nervousness  at  all.  Oliver  roomed  at  number  204 
Grey  Street  and  as  I  reached  the  nineties  my  uneas 
iness  became  quite  apparent.  I  could  feel  it  in  my 
chest,  as  if  I  were  hungry.  I  did  hope  Oliver  would 
be  in.  I  did  hope  I  was  doing  the  right  thing.  Prob 
ably  my  growing  excitement  was  a  little  due  to  the 
gala  spirit  of  the  football  day.  It  pervaded  every 
thing.  It  thrilled  me.  Crowds  of  people  with 
steamer-rugs  and  overcoats  over  their  arms  had 
thronged  the  trains  and  street-cars  all  along  my 
route  —  a  good-natured  crowd,  prosperous-looking 
young  men  and  stunning  girls  wearing  great  bunches 
of  flowers  and  carrying  flags.  Everybody  was  ex 
cited,  even  down  to  the  small  boys  selling  programmes 
and  banners  in  the  square  I  had  just  left;  everybody 
glowed  with  enthusiasm  and  with  the  foretaste  of  a 


ii6      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

triumph.  I  had  never  been  to  a  football  game  in  my 
life,  and  I  had  always  wanted  to.  Perhaps  Oliver 
would  take  me;  perhaps  we  would  have  lunch  to 
gether  somewhere !  I  should  adore  to  see  the  college 
buildings!  Possibly  —  oh,  possibly,  he  would  intro 
duce  me  to  some  of  his  friends ! !  The  thought  of  the 
thrilling  things  that  might  be  in  store  for  me  made 
me  swallow  to  keep  myself  calm.  As  I  hurried  along 
Grey  Street  I  was  so  excited  that  I  somehow  wished 
that  the  wonderful  time  was  all  over,  and  that  I  was 
speeding  safely  and  victoriously  home  again,  wear 
ing  a  faded  bunch  of  crysanthemums  that  Oliver 
would  buy  for  me,  and  hoarding  in  my  memory  the 
brand-new  acquisition  of  a  real  College  Football  Game. 
I  was  rather  disappointed  in  the  appearance  of 
number  204.  It  was  a  big  brick  building  and  not  at 
all  my  idea  of  a  College  Dormitory.  It  was  just  as 
plain  and  ordinary  as  it  could  be,  with  the  door  open 
ing  right  square  on  to  the  brick  sidewalk,  and  a  horrid 
little  tailor-shop  and  drug-store  opposite.  I  didn't 
know  what  I  ought  to  do.  The  big  front  door  was 
wide  open,  and  I  could  see  into  the  hall.  It  looked 
like  a  prison  —  all  brick  and  masonry,  and  bare 
granolithic  stairs  with  an  iron  railing.  I  didn't  know 
whether  to  go  in  or  not.  If  there  had  been  a  police 
man  in  sight  I  would  have  asked  his  advice,  or  an 
old  lady,  or  a  girl,  but  there  was  only  a  very  good- 
looking  young  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  street, 
so  I  rang  the  bell  and  waited.  No  one  came.  I  rang 
again;  I  rang  that  old  bell  —  at  least  I  pushed  the 
button  —  six  times !  No  one  answered,  so  I  finally 
started  up  the  stairs.  Perhaps  I  was  waiting  at  the 
basement  door  (the  interior  certainly  looked  like  a 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      117 

cellar)  and  the  parlours  or  reception-rooms  were  pos 
sibly  on  the  floor  above.  It  was  while  I  was  stand 
ing,  hesitating  on  the  second  landing,  gazing  up  in 
terminable  flights  of  cement  stairs  and  brick  walls, 
wondering  how  in  the  world  I  could  dig  Oliver  out 
of  such  a  tomb,  that  a  door  opened  somewhere  up 
above  and  down  those  stairs  —  bump-bump,  clappity- 
clap,  pell-mell,  like  ten  barrels  falling  down  one  over 
another,  shouting,  laughing,  guffawing  —  I  heard 
what  I  thought  must  be  a  regiment  charging  down 
upon  me.  I  drew  back  a  little  into  the  corner  and 
suddenly  four  men  —  four  stunning  young  college 
men  appeared  before  me. 

They  all  stopped  shouting  as  if  I  had  been  a  vision, 
and  though  they  didn't  say  a  word  I  could  feel  they 
observed  me  with  a  start  of  surprise  as  if  young  ladies 
in  their  corridors  were  a  great  curiosity.  I  blushed 
for  no  particular  reason ;  they  passed  on  quietly  down 
the  stairs;  and  would  have  left  me  there  without  a 
word  if  I  hadn't  spoken. 

"  Excuse  me,"  I  said  to  the  back  of  the  last  young 
man.  "  Could  you  tell  me  —  I'm  sorry  to  stop  you 
—  but  does  Oliver  Vars  room  here  ?  " 

They  all  halted  and  looked  up  at  me.  I  blushed 
worse  than  ever.  I  suddenly  felt  as  if  I  ought  not 
to  have  been  there,  and  though  the  young  men  were 
just  as  courteous  and  polite  as  they  could  be  I  was 
awfully  embarrassed. 

"  Why,  yes,  he  does  room  here,"  said  the  young 
man  nearest  me,  taking  off  his  hat.  "  Did  you  want 
to  see  him?" 

"  Yes,  "  I  stammered.  "  It's  —  it's  very  import 
ant.  I'm  sorry  but  I — " 


nS      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  assured  me  quickly,  for  I 
guess  he  heard  my  voice  tremble ;  "  I'll  find  him  for 
you."  And  oh,  he  had  the  nicest,  straightest,  cleanest 
look.  "  You  go  on,"  he  said  to  his  friends ;  "  I'll  be 
with  you  in  a  minute."  Then  to  me,  "  Vars  rooms 
here,  but  I  am  about  sure  he's  out  now.  If  you'll 
come  with  me  perhaps  —  Must  you  see  him  right 
off?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you.  I  must.  I  must!  I've 
come  on  the  train  to  see  him.  I've  got  to  see  him  if 
I  sit  here  and  wait  for  him." 

"  Oh,  I'll  get  him  all  right,"  the  young  man  said. 
"  We  haven't  much  of  a  place  here  to  wait,  but  if 
you'll  come  with  me,  we'll  find  him,"  he  assured  me. 

He  stepped  back  to  let  me  pass  out  in  front  of  him 
to  the  street,  and  once  on  the  sidewalk,  he  fell  be 
hind  me  a  moment  so  that  he  might  walk  next  to  the 
curbing.  Oh,  that  young  man  had  beautiful  man 
ners  !  I'll  always  remember  them.  It  was  just  the 
noon  hour  and  he  met  lots  of  men  that  he  knew.  To 
each  one  he  raised  his  hat  as  if  he'd  had  a  princess 
with  him.  They  returned  his  bow  in  the  same  man 
ner,  with  a  curious  look  at  me. 

"  They  think,"  he  laughed  pleasantly,  "  I'm  taking 
you  to  the  game  this  afternoon!" 

I  flushed.  I  wanted  to  say,  "  I  wish  you  were." 
If  I  had  been  the  pretty  girl  whom  we  had  just  passed, 
in  the  black  lynx,  with  a  little  round  fur  hat  with  a 
red  flower  on  it,  it  would  have  been  easy  to  smile, 
glance  sidewise,  and  say  pretty  things.  But  from  un 
der  my  black  felt  sailor,  side  glances  wouldn't  be  at 
tractive.  I  kept  my  eyes  straight  ahead.  "  You  can 
explain  to  them  afterward,"  I  said. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      119 

He  left  me  in  a  drug-store.  "  I'll  get  him !  "  were 
his  last  words  as  he  raised  his  hat. 

I  waited  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  It  was  after 
one  o'clock  when  I  saw  Oliver  push  open  the  big 
plate-glass  door.  He  had  been  hurrying.  His  face 
was  red,  his  eyes  startled  and  frightened,  his  hair 
tossed  a  little  under  the  cap  he  wore.  At  sight  of  me 
he  stopped,  then  strode  up  to  me,  where  I  was  sitting 
on  a  stool  by  the  soda-fountain. 

"  You !  "  he  gasped.  "  You !  For  heaven's  sake, 
Bobbie,  what  are  you  here  for  ?  " 

"I  telegraphed,"  I  explained.     "Didn't  you — " 

"  No,"  he  broke  in,  "  I've  had  no  telegram. 
.What's  the  trouble  anyhow?  Who's  dead?  Who — " 

"  Why,  Oliver,"  I  replied  calmly,  "  nobody's  dead." 
Then  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I've  come  with  the  money," 
I  said. 

"  The  money!     Why  didn't  you  mail  it?  "  he  fired. 

"  Your  letter  didn't  come  till  this  morning,  and  — 
isn't  the  meeting  to-day?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  still  annoyed ;  "  but  there  was 
no  such  rush.  I've  managed  to  borrow  enough  to 
fix  that  up.  Oh,  I  knew  I  better  not  rely  on  your 
getting  it  here,  and  so  a  friend  of  mine  lent  me 
enough  to  tide  me  over."  We  had  moved  away  from 
.the  soda-fountain  and  were  talking  in  low  tones  be- 
'side  a  display  of  fancy  soap. 

"  Then  why  —  ?  "  I  began. 

"  Oh,  because,"  he  took  me  up,  "I've  got  to  pay 
Holmes  back.  No  man  of  any  respect  owes  money 
to  a  friend  for  a  longer  time  than  he  can  help.  But 
Holmes  didn't  expect  it  till  next  week.  It  was  ab 
solutely  crazy,  your  coming  way  down  here.  You 


120      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

went  to  my  room,  didn't  you?  What  do  you  suppose 
the  men  will  think?  Do  you  know  who  it  was  told 
me  you  were  here  ?  Blanchard !  Blanchard !  A 
Senior!  One  of  the  biggest  men  here!  Heavens, 
when  he  told  me  a  girl  wanted  to  see  me  —  You  don't 
have  any  idea  of  propriety,  Lucy ! " 

"  Oliver  Vars,"  I  returned,  "  I've  brought  seventy- 
five  dollars  down  here  in  this  bag  for  you,  and  you 
had  better  stop  talking  like  that  to  me.  If  it  wasn't 
for  me  and  my  impropriety,  you'd  be  working  in  the 
mills,  let  me  tell  you.  And  I  don't  know  but  what 
it  would  be  better.  If  Alec  knew  what  you'd  done 
—  if  Tom  knew — " 

Oliver's  attitude  changed  immediately. 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  he  interrupted.  "  It's  been  bully  of 
you,  Bobbie.  I  tell  you  I  appreciate  it.  I  suppose 
you  had  a  hard  time  squeezing  even  such  an  amount 
out  of  old  Al,  and  just  now  too,  when  business  is  so 
rotten.  But  I'll  pay  you  back  some  day,  you'll  see. 
You've  helped  me  out  of  a  devil  of  a  scrape.  I'm 
going  to  have  you  down  to  a  game  or  a  tea  soon." 

"  There's  a  game  this  afternoon ! "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Oh,  Oliver  —  I've  never  seen  a  football  game." 

My  brother  frowned.  "  I'm  more  than  sorry,  but 
I'm  taking  some  one  this  afternoon.  Malcolm  and  I, 
two  other  fellows  and  four  girls,  a  party  of  eight  of 
us,  are  all  going  together." 

"  Couldn't  I  sit  alone  somewhere,  off  in  a  corner? 
I  wouldn't  mind  a  bit.  I  want  to  see  the  crowds  and 
be  able  to  say  that  I  have  been.  Oh,  I'd  love  to  hear 
the  cheering.  You  could  call  for  me  afterward, 
and  — " 

"  Oh,  no,  Lucy ;  oh,  no.     That's  out  of  the  ques- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      121 

tion.  Why  even  if  I  could  get  a  ticket,  which  I 
can't,  it  wouldn't  do.  You  don't  understand  in  the 
least." 

There  was  something1  about  the  way  Oliver  glanced 
at  my  old  rusty  laced  boots  that  made  me  say  fiercely, 
"  I  don't  suppose  I'm  dressed  well  enough !  " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  —  not  at  all,"  he  assured  me, 
and  suddenly  I  felt  that  it  was.  "  Of  course  it  isn't, 
though  the  girls  do  put  on  the  best  things  they  have. 
It's  simply  that  no  girl  ever  goes  alone  to  a  game." 

"  Well,  then,  here's  the  money,"  I  said  in  a  hard 
voice. 

"  Say,  Bobbie,  I'm  awfully  sorry.  If  you  only  had 
let  me  know.  If  you  only  — " 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  I  interrupted. 

A  young  man  in  a  grey  sweater  entered  the  store. 
Oliver  glanced  around  at  him,  then  flushed  and  finally 
raised  his  cap.  The  young  man  returned  the  bow 
generously.  If  I  had  been  less  sensitive  I  wouldn't 
have  noticed  how  Oliver  stood  so  as  to  shield  me 
from  the  young  man's  gaze.  If  I  hadn't  walked  that 
three  blocks  and  a  half  with  that  young  god  Blanch- 
ard,  whoever  he  was,  I  wouldn't  have  minded  Oliver's 
half-apologetic  bow.  Mr.  Blanchard  hadn't  been 
ashamed  of  me;  he  hadn't  hidden  me;  he  hadn't 
flushed  when  he  met  his  friends.  I  wanted  to  get 
away  from  Oliver  as  soon  as  I  could.  I  wanted  to 
go  home. 

"  Well,  I  might  as  well  be  starting  along,"  I  said. 
"  I  found  my  way  down  here  without  any  trouble, 
and  I  guess  I'll  get  home  all  right." 

"  Say,  Bobbie,  I'm  more  than  sorry.  I  wish  I 
could  put  you  safely  on  the  Hilton  train,  but  I've  got 


122      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

to  rush  like  mad  as  it  is  —  change  my  clothes,  get 
some  food,  and  call  for  Miss  Beresford,  all  before 
two  o'clock.  So  if  you're  sure — " 

"  I  am,"  I  tucked  in. 

"  I'll  put  you  on  the  electric  car.  Say  — "  his  face 
brightened,  "  don't  you  want  some  hot  chocolate  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't,  Oliver.     No  thanks.     Please." 

I  was  glad  to  be  alone  again.  I  was  glad  of  the 
protection  of  the  crowds  and  the  stream  of  strange 
faces.  I  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  car,  where  Oliver 
had  left  me,  with  a  hard  look  about  my  mouth  —  at 
least  I  felt  as  if  it  were  hard.  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  reward.  Everything  in  life  is  unfair.  Who  was 
Miss  Beresford?  Would  she  wear  coon-skin  and 
velvet?  Would  Oliver  buy  her  a  stunning  bunch  of 
flowers  to  wear  at  her  waist?  Perhaps  one  of  the 
actual  dollars  that  I  had  earned  would  purchase  a 
little  flag  for  her  to  wave.  Why  should  I  pay  for 
Miss  Beresford's  good  time?  Why  should  I  have  to 
work  so  hard,  and  wear  ugly  black?  Why  should  I 
be  going  home  —  hungry  and  faint,  and  ashamed  — 
while  every  one  else  was  thronging  in  the  other 
direction  ? 

It  was  while  I  was  changing  cars,  standing  alone 
on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  taking  in  all  I  could  see 
of  the  excitement,  that  my  eyes  fell  on  a  stunning 
creature  in  a  long  luxurious  fur  coat.  She  wore  a 
huge  bunch  of  violets,  as  big  as  a  cauliflower.  A 
great  big  sweeping  plume  streamed  out  behind.  She 
was  bubbling  with  laughter,  and  the  young  man  strid 
ing  along  beside  her  was  laughing  too.  They  were  a 
lovely  pair,  both  of  them  full  of  the  joy  of  living. 
The  girl  (I  looked  twice  to  make  sure)  was  some  one 


123 

I  knew.  The  girl,  as  sure  as  I  was  alive,  was  no 
other  than  Sarah  Platt  —  Sarah  Platt,  whom  I  had 
longed  to  know  at  boarding-school ;  Sarah  Platt  who 
had  always  scorned  the  very  sight  of  Lucy  Vars; 
Sarah  Platt  whom  finally  I  had  almost  spat  upon  as 
contemptible  and  mean.  A  half  an  hour  ago,  Oliver 
had  tried  to  hide  me,  and  now  I  tried  to  hide  my 
self.  I  slunk  behind  a  telegraph-pole.  Sarah  swept 
by  like  a  gilded  chariot;  I  heard  her  voice;  I  smelled 
the  odor  of  her  violets.  "  She'll  always  be  glorious 
and  happy,"  I  thought  savagely.  "  She'll  always 
have  a  good  time.  She'll  marry  that  young  man.  I 
know  she  will.  And  I  —  I'll  always  be  poor  and 
miserable  and  forgotten." 

It  was  half -past  two  when  I  re-entered  the  big 
station,  inquired  of  a  news-stand  girl  the  way  to  the 
restaurant,  and  found  my  way  to  the  lunch  counter. 
Instead  of  luncheon  with  Oliver,  at  a  small  table  in 
some  darling  little  college-town  restaurant,  I  hoisted 
myself  up  on  a  stool  and  ordered  a  ham  sandwich 
and  a  cup  of  coffee.  The  girl  who  drew  the  steam 
ing  black  liquid  out  of  the  shining  metal  tank  looked 
sour  and  dissatisfied.  She  slopped  some  of  it  on  the 
saucer  as  she  shoved  the  thick  crockery  toward  me. 
She  slammed  down  my  check  and  slung  a  towel  up- 
over  her  shoulder  with  a  sort  of  vehemence  that  ex 
pressed  my  feelings  exactly.  I  don't  know  why  she 
was  so  miserable;  I  never  knew;  but  I  sympathised 
just  the  same.  When  she  dropped  a  glass  and  it 
shattered  and  broke  at  her  feet,  she  merely  shrugged 
her  shoulders,  and  kicked  the  pieces  as  if  she  didn't 
care  a  rap  if  the  whole  station  fell  down  and  broke. 
Oh,  I  just  loved  that  girl,  somehow.  I  knew  she 


124      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

thought  life  was  cruel,  hard  as  iron,  and  terribly  un 
just.  I  wasn't  the  only  one  who  at  that  moment  was 
not  cheering  with  the  crowds  at  the  football  game. 
I  wasn't  the  only  wretched  person  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  X 

ABOUT  a  week  after  I  had  been  down  to  see 
Oliver,  I  observed  that  something  strange  had 
come  over  Dr.  Maynard.  The  first  time  I  noticed  it 
was  the  day  I  hailed  him  when  he  was  passing  the 
house  one  noon,  and  gave  him  an  envelope  with  my 
December  allowance  sealed  up  inside.  I  explained  it 
was  in  part  payment  of  the  loan  he  had  made  me 
the  week  before.  He  didn't  laugh;  he  didn't  even 
smile;  he  was  as  solemn  as  a  judge,  as  he  took  that 
envelope  and  put  it  in  his  breast-pocket.  Usually 
there  is  a  joke  on  the  tip  of  Dr.  Maynard's  tongue. 
He  is  always  saving  situations  from  becoming  serious 
by  a  bit  of  fun.  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  feel 
uncomfortable  with  Dr.  Maynard.  The  next  day 
when  he  passed  me  alone  in  his  automobile,  when  I 
was  coming  home  from  downtown,  it  flashed  upon  me 
as  very  odd  that  he  didn't  stop  and  take  me  in  as 
usual.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  hadn't  taken 
me  out  for  a  ride,  for  days.  I  got  to  thinking!  The 
next  Sunday  at  church  he  and  Alec  seemed  friendly 
enough,  but  I  observed  that  Dr.  Maynard  didn't  drop 
in  on  us  in  the  afternoon.  The  grave  look  that  had 
come  into  his  eyes  when  he  passed  those  two  bills  to 
me  that  morning  on  his  front  porch,  the  solemn  tone 
in  his  voice  when  he  said,  "  Then,  here  it  is,  Bobbie," 
seemed  to  be  there  every  time  he  spoke  to  me.  I  was 
sorry.  It  made  me  uneasy.  It  didn't  seem  as  if  I 
could  bear  it  if  Dr.  Maynard  should  go  back  on  me 

125 


126      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

—  along  with  the  business,  and  Alec,  and  everything 
and  everybody  I  ever  cared  a  cent  about. 

I  wondered  what  was  the  cause  of  Dr.  Maynard's 
coolness.  Perhaps  he  felt  that  Alec  was  blaming  him 
for  allowing  me  to  take  so  much  of  his  money;  per 
haps  he  was  nursing  the  idea  that  he  was  responsible 
for  the  strangeness  between  my  older  brother  and  my 
self ;  or  else,  possibly  Dr.  Maynard  thought  that  since 
I  had  committed  such  an  unheard-of  act  as  to  ask 
him  for  money  I  would  naturally  feel  embarrassed 
and  ill-at-ease  in  his  presence.  But  that  was  all  non 
sense.  I  didn't  regret  a  thing  that  I  had  done.  In 
spite  of  what  Alec  might  consider  my  shocking  im 
propriety,  I  didn't  feel  ashamed.  I  adored  Dr.  May 
nard's  cheerfulness!  It  seemed  as  if  I  must  go  and 
tell  him  that  the  only  fun  I  had  left  now  was  the  fun 
I  had  with  him.  I  used  to  love  his  jokes  and  merry 
making.  I  believe  Dr.  Maynard  could  make  the 
worst  catastrophe  in  the  world  a  lark,  if  he  wanted 
to.  Why,  whenever  we  had  a  puncture  in  the  auto 
mobile,  Dr.  Maynard  was  so  good-natured  about  it 
that  any  one  would  have  thought  he  enjoyed  punctures. 
"  You've  got  a  flat  tire,  George,"  he'd  sing  out  to 
me  (he  calls  me  George  when  I  am  running  the  car), 
or,  "Sorry,  Miss;  sounds  mighty  like  a  blow-out," 
rhe'd  say,  if  he  happened  to  be  at  the  wheel;  and  while 
he  was  jacking-up,  I'd  flax  around  and  unlock  the 
tools.  Before  he  had  the  shoe  off,  I  was  ready  with 
the  new  inner  tube,  and  thirty  minutes  from  the  time 
we  had  stopped  we  were  zinging  along  again  as  good 
as  new.  Most  of  the  sunshine  in  my  life  —  literal 
sunshine  and  the  other  kind  too  —  came  through  Dr. 
Maynard. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       127 

As  I  became  more  and  more  convinced  that  he  was 
acting  queerly,  I  began  to  realise  how  kind  he  had 
been  to  me.  I  suppose  Dr.  Maynard  is  really  a  bet 
ter  friend  of  mine  than  Juliet  Adams,  to  whom  I 
write  twice  every  week,  and  for  whom  I  make  a  stun 
ning  Christmas  present  every  year.  He  has  surely 
done  more  to  fill  my  heart  with  gratitude  and  everlast 
ing  appreciation.  It  flashed  upon  me,  one  day,  that 
I  had  never  done  a  thing  in  my  life,  without  pay, 
for  Dr.  Maynard.  I  began  thinking  and  thinking 
what  a  girl  of  nineteen  could  do  anyhow,  for  a  man 
of  thirty-five,  who  lives  all  alone  and  has  all  the 
money  he  wants. 

It  was  when  I  was  working  on  Juliet's  Christmas 
present  that  it  occurred  to  me  that  possibly  it  might 
please  an  older  man,  who  didn't  have  any  family, 
if  some  one  gave  him  a  Christmas  present.  The 
more  I  thought  about  it  the  better  I  liked 
the  idea.  It  semed  to  me  a  delicate  way  of  express 
ing  my  thanks  to  Dr.  Maynard  for  all  that  he  had 
done. 

I  had  an  awful  time  deciding  on  the  present.  First 
I  wanted  to  buy  a  wind-shield  for  his  automobile  but 
the  price,  of  wind-shields  is  something  terrific.  Fur 
robes,  automobile  clocks,  a  Gabriel  horn  all  were  de 
lightful  possibilities,  but  beyond  the  limits  of  my 
purse.  My  oldest  brother  Tom  likes  books,  I  always 
give  Alec  socks  or  handkerchiefs.  The  twins  adore 
sofa-pillows  for  their  rooms.  Sofa  pillows!  Would 
Dr.  Maynard  like  a  sofa-pillow  for  his  room?  For 
a  week  I  hesitated  between  a  sofa-pillow  and  a  hand- 
embroidered  picture  frame,  but  finally  decided  on  the 
pillow. 


128      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  knew  exactly  how  I  was  going  to  make  it.  I  had 
seen  one  of  my  friends,  who  attends  a  big  boarding- 
school  near  Philadelphia,  embroidering  a  perfectly 
stunning  one  at  Thanksgiving  for  a  college  man  she 
knew.  I  copied  hers.  Of  course  I  realised  that  Dr. 
Maynard  had  been  out  of  college  for  years,  but  he 
is  very  loyal  to  his  Alma  Mater.  He  told  me  all 
about  the  fifteenth  reunion  he  attended  last  June  as 
soon  as  he  got  home,  and  seemed  awfully  enthusias 
tic.  So  I  bought  and  had  charged  to  myself,  two 
yards  of  the  most  expensive  and  shiniest  satin  in  the 
Hilton  stores,  had  it  stamped  on  one  side  with  the 
seal  of  Dr.  Maynard's  college,  and  on  the  other  with 
his  initials  and  the  numerals  of  his  class  beneath.  It 
wasn't  very  complimentary  to  Dr.  Maynard  I  suppose, 
but  as  I  worked,  I  wondered  if  I  would  ever  embroider 
a  sofa-pillow  for  a  real  college  man.  I  wished  this 
one  was  destined  for  some  one  who  was  in  college 
now.  I  should  have  enjoyed  the  thought  that  a  pillow 
made  by  my  hands  would  be  piled  high  on  a  couch  in 
the  corner  of  a  college  boy's  room,  beneath  posters 
and  signs  and  flags,  and  that  college  men  would  lean 
up  against  it  and  play  banjos  and  guitars.  I  wished 
I  had  half  an  excuse  for  making  a  sofa-pillow  for  Mr. 
Blanchard.  Dr.  Maynard  graduated  perfect  ages 
ago,  in  the  class  of  'go  —  three  years  before  the 
World's  Fair  in  Chicago,  which  is  one  of  my  earliest 
recollections.  The  pillow  that  I  copied  mine  from 
has  on  it  a  big  '09,  and  Mr.  Blanchard  is  a  member 
of  the  class  of  '06.  I  had  only  to  turn  my  pillow  up 
side  down  and  it  would  have  been  perfect  for  Mr. 
Blanchard. 

After  I  had  finished  the  embroidery,  I  bought  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       129 

best  down-pillow  for  the  thing  that  I  could  find  — 
for  I  wasn't  going  to  skimp  on  Dr.  Maynard's  Christ 
mas  present,  after  all  his  generosity  —  and  also  a 
heavy  black  silk  cord  to  go  around  the  edge.  I  must 
confess  when  it  was  all  done  —  the  black  letters  stand 
ing  up  so  that  they  cast  a  shadow  on  the  red  satin, 
and  the  surface  as  round  and  full  as  a  raised  biscuit  — 
I  must  confess  it  was  perfectly  lovely.  I  think  Mr. 
Blanchard  would  have  liked  it  very  much.  I  wrapped 
it  up  very  carefully  in  tissue  paper,  over  that  a  layer 
of  brown  paper  held  together  by  pins,  and  put  it  well 
out  of  sight  on  my  closet  shelf.  I  was  determined 
that  Ruth  shouldn't  see  it. 

Christmas  used  to  be  a  great  day  with  us.  Tont 
always  came  home  from  the  West;  and  we  had 
fricasseed  chicken  for  breakfast;  turkey  and  pies  fof 
dinner;  figs,  nuts  and  Malaga  grapes  for  supper.  We 
never  celebrated  with  a  Christmas  tree  (we  consid 
ered  them  childish)  and  the  younger  ones  of  us  — 
Ruth  and  I  and  the  twins  —  never  hung  our  stock 
ings.  Since  Mother  died  there  was  no  one  to  keep 
up  the  fiction  of  Santa  Claus,  and  I  remember  we 
used  to  feel  awfully  set-up  and  superior  at  the  church 
supper  on  Christmas  Eve  when  we,  with  grown-ups, 
knew  that  the  person  in  the  old  red  coat  and  white 
beard  was  just  the  Sunday-school  superintendent 
dressed  up.  We  always  opened  our  presents  in  the 
sitting-room  directly  after  breakfast.  Each  member 
of  the  family  had  a  chair  of  his  own,  with  his  pres 
ents  piled  in  it.  When  we  all  finally  got  started  on 
the  opening,  I  don't  know  whether  we  were  more  in 
terested  in  seeing  the  presents  we  had  given,  opened, 
or  opening  the  ones  we  had  received.  It  was  a  won- 


130      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

.derful  hour  anyhow,  and  I  can't  even  remember  it 
•without  getting  a  thrill. 

It's  different  now;  everything  is  different  — 
Memorial  Day,  Fourth  of  July  and  Thanksgiving  — 
with  Father  gone.  We  can't  seem  to  fill  up  the  rooms 
without  Father.  When  we  try  to  celebrate  a  holi- 
,day  I  think  it  must  be  something  like  acting  or 
preaching  to  an  empty  house.  Father  was  a  beau 
tiful  audience,  and  his  applause  made  the  day 
worth  while.  Since  Tom  has  been  married  he  hasn't 
been  here  for  Christmas  either.  Elise's  family 
wants  her  with  them.  Besides,  she  has  two  little 
daughters  now  and  can't  possibly  come  East  anyhow. 
You  can  imagine  with  only  Ruth,  the  twins,  heart 
sick  Alec,  and  me  —  no  Dixie,  no  Nellie,  no  money 
for  presents,  and  the  "  For  Sale  "  sign  still  outside  the 
parlour  window  —  it  wasn't  a  very  merry  Christmas 
for  the  Vars  family.  It  just  dragged,  I  can  tell  you. 
I  had  to  cook  the  dinner  myself  because  Bridget,  the 
general-housework  girl,  had  too  soft  a  heart  to  disap 
point  her  second  cousin,  who  had  invited  her  to  spend 
the  day  with  her.  Ruth  and  the  twins  started  off  on 
a  skating-party  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  after 
we'd  done  up  the  dishes  together.  As  soon  as  I  was 
sure  they  were  all  safely  out  of  the  way  —  Alec  was 
sound  asleep  on  the  third  floor  —  I  stuck  on  my  red 
tarn  and  sweater,  and  took  my  present  over  to  Dr. 
Maynard. 

I  was  dreadfully  afraid  I'd  meet  some  one  I  knew 
on  the  way,  and  they'd  inquire  what  I  had  in  the 
bundle.  It  was  the  awkwardest  thing  I  ever  at 
tempted  to  carry  in  my  life.  Try  it  sometime.  When 
I  struggled  up  to  Dr.  Maynard's  front  door,  I  won- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       131 

dered  if  he  had  been  watching  me  from  the  windows, 
and  asking  himself  what  in  the  name  of  heaven  was 
coming  now.  But  he  wasn't  at  home.  Eliza  who 
came  to  the  door  explained  that  Dr.  Maynard  had 
gone  out  horseback  riding,  but  wouldn't  I  come  in 
and  wait? 

I  thanked  Eliza  —  I'd  never  been  inside  Dr.  May- 
nard's  house  before  —  and  entered  the  hall.  She 
showed  me  into  a  big  square  room  at  the  left,  and 
told  me  to  sit  down. 

"  I  won't  stop,  I  think,"  I  said.  "  I'll  just  leave 
this.  It's  a  Christmas  present  for  Dr.  Maynard. 
Don't  tell  him  who  left  it.  There's  a  card  inside." 

"  I'll  lay  it  right  here  on  his  desk,"  said  Eliza, 
grinning  with  pleasure. 

She'd  no  sooner  put  my  bundle  down  than  I  heard 
the  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  driveway  out 
side. 

"  I  believe  he's  coming,"  I  exclaimed.  "  How 
lucky!  I'll  wait." 

After  Eliza  had  gone  back  to  the  kitchen  and  I  was 
alone,  I  gazed  about  the  room.  It  was  a  dark,  dull 
room  with  bronze-coloured  walls.  Low,  black  walnut 
bookcases  were  built  in  around  two  sides,  and  over 
them  hung  two  solitary  pictures  —  steel  engravings  of 
battle  scenes.  There  were  several  huge  leather  arm 
chairs,  and  a  bare  leather  couch  in  one  corner.  There 
wasn't  a  single  sofa-pillow  on  it.  I  didn't  believe 
Dr.  Maynard  liked  sofa-pillows  after  all.  Every 
thing  was  so  big  and  dark  and  stiff  in  that  room,  I 
was  afraid  a  pillow  would  look  out  of  place.  I 
walked  over  to  Dr.  Maynard's  desk.  It  was  just  like 
the  room  —  nothing  pretty  on  it  —  a  book  or  two,  a 


132      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

big  bronze  horse,  a  piece  of  black  onyx  for  a  paper 
weight.  There  was  also  a  small,  dark  leather  frame, 
and  in  it  a  kodak  picture  of  Alec  on  horseback.  The 
horse  was  poor  dear  little  Dixie,  who  had  gone  away. 
I  remembered  when  Dr.  Maynard  had  taken  that  pic 
ture.  It  was  in  our  back  yard  last  summer.  The 
smoke-bush  had  been  in  full  plumage.  Just  before 
he  snapped  the  picture,  he  had  called  to  me,  "  You  get 
into  it,  too,  Bobbie.  Stand  up  here,  in  front,  by 
Dixie's  head."  And  there  I  was,  as  sure  as  life, 
pinching  the  dear  little  horse's  soft  under  lip,  and 
smiling  at  Dr.  Maynard. 

As  I  stood  looking  at  the  picture,  wondering  where 
Dixie  had  gone  —  for  Alec  hadn't  told  me  and  I 
dreaded  to  ask  —  Dr.  Maynard  passed  by  the  window 
by  my  side.  He  was  coming  in  from  the  stable  by 
way  of  the  front  door,  and  Eliza  would  have  no  op 
portunity  for  telling  him  that  he  had  a  caller.  As  I 
heard  him  fitting  his  key  into  the  lock  of  the  outside 
door,  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  fun  to  hide. 
I  glanced  around  the  room.  There  wasn't  a  drapery 
in  sight.  There  wasn't  a  hanging  of  any  description 
that  I  could  crawl  behind.  So  finally  I  dashed  into 
what  proved  to  be  a  closet  —  dark  as  pitch. 

Dr.  Maynard  didn't  stop  in  the  hall.  He  didn't 
call  Eliza.  He  came  directly  toward  the  library  door 
and  entered  the  room.  The  sun  was  just  setting,  and 
a  few  last  rays  came  slanting  through  the  windows. 
They  burnished  the  room  like  magic  brass-polish. 
The  bronze-coloured  walls  shone  like  dull  copper;  the 
brown  leather  armchairs,  the  black  walnut  woodwork, 
the  old  camel-shaded  rugs  were  absolutely  golden.  As 
Dr.  Maynard  stood  in  the  late  sunshine  in  his  khaki- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       133 

coloured  riding  things,  his  face  all  aglow  and  ruddy 
with  the  cold,  he  too  glowed  like  everything  else.  He 
looked  very  handsome  in  his  riding  boots  (I  could  see 
him  through  the  crack  in  the  door)  and  much  sportier 
than  in  automobile  goggles  and  a  visored  cap. 
,  He  tossed  down  his  riding  wrhip  and  soft  felt  hat 
in  a  chair,  rubbed  his  bare  hands  together  as  if  they 
were  cold,  blew  through  his  fingers,  then  abruptly  flung 
himself  full  length  on  the  leather  couch.  He  clasped 
his  two  hands  underneath  his  head,  and  lay  there  with 
his  eyes  wide  open,  staring  up  at  the  ceiling.  I  hoped 
he  wouldn't  keep  me  waiting  long.  A  small  travelling 
clock  on  the  desk  struck  four-thirty,  and  he  turned  to 
ward  it.  It  was  then  that  he  saw  the  big  white  bundle 
resting  on  his  blotter.  He  frowned  a  moment,  as  his 
gaze  fell  upon  it  (I  was  shaking  with  laughter)  then 
got  up  and  walked  over  to  it.  He  picked  it  up,  turned 
it  over,  and  laid  it  down  again.  He  examined  the 
outside  closely  —  for  an  address,  I  suppose  —  gave  it 
up,  then  shoving  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  stood  look 
ing  down  at  the  bundle,  as  if  some  stranger  had  left 
a  baby  at  his  door  and  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
it.  Finally,  he  decided  to  open  the  thing  at  least,  and 
began  taking  out  the  pins.  Beneath  the  brown  paper 
was  the  layer  of  white  tissue  paper,  tied  with  red 
Christmas  ribbon.  I  didn't  think  Dr.  Maynard  would 
ever  get  beneath  that  tissue  paper.  You  would  have 
thought  that  there  was  something  explosive  inside. 
He  lifted  up  the  rustling  package  gingerly  by  the  red 
ribbon  and  looked  it  all  over.  My  card  was  hanging 
from  the  under  side.  Dr.  Maynard  took  it  off  at 
last  and  read  it. 

It  was  a  plain  white  card  with  simply  the  words: 


134 

"  Merry  Christmas  to  W.  F.  M.  from  his  discharged 
chauffeur,  George."     Dr.  Maynard  gazed  at  that  card 
as   if   there   had   been   volumes   written   on    it.     He 
turned  it  over,  searched  on  the  back,  and  examined 
again  its  face.     Then  he  went  to  the  window,  put  the 
shade  up  to  the  top,  and  came  back  to  the  desk.     His 
back  was  toward  me;  I  couldn't  see  the  expression 
on  his  face  as  he  folded  back  the  tissue  paper,  and  my 
pillow  finally  shone  up  at  him.     He  didn't  speak  nor 
make  a  single  sound  as  he  stood  looking  down  at  the 
initials  and  his  class  numeral.     He  didn't  stir  —  just 
looked   until  the  silence  grew  uncomfortable.     Sud 
denly  he  sat  down  in  his  desk-chair,  leaned  forward, 
picked  up  Alec's  picture  and  began  looking  at  that  in 
the  same  awfully  still,   quiet   way.     I  couldn't  bear 
it  a  minute  longer.     The  tensity  was  something  like 
a  shrill,  long-drawn-out  note  on  a  violin.     I  can't  ex 
plain  it,  but  it  made  me  want  to  scream. 
Suddenly  I  burst  out  upon  him. 
"Well,"  I  exclaimed,  "do  you  like  it?" 
He  wheeled  about,  as  if  he'd  heard  a  shot. 
"  Lucy !  "  he  said,  "  Where  did  you  —  ?  " 
"  In  the  closet,"  I  interrupted,  "  watching." 
He  still  had  the  picture  in  his  hands.     He  glanced 
at  it,  then  laid  it  down,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  saw  the  dark  colour  come  into  Dr.  Maynard's 
face.     He  came  over  to  me. 

"  Did  you  make  it?  "  he  asked  me  quietly. 
"  Every  stitch  for  you !  "  I  said,  laughing. 
He  didn't  answer  at  first.     He  just  kept  looking  at 
me,   with  that  queer,   new  look   of  his.     He   didn't 
joke.     His  eyes  didn't  twinkle  with  fun.     When  he 
spoke  his  voice  trembled.     He  took  one  of  my  hands 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       135 

very  kindly   and   gently   in   both   of   his   cold   ones. 

"  You  have  made  my  Christmas  the  very  happiest 
one  in  my  life,  Lucy,"  he  said  solemnly. 

I  glanced  up  surprised.  I  wish  I  could  write  down 
how  his  eyes  looked.  I  can't.  I  only  know  I  was 
[suddenly  afraid.  I  drew  my  hand  away  and  laughed, 
for  no  reason.  I  was  actually  embarrassed  before 
Dr.  Maynard! 

"  I  guess  I  must  go,"  I  said  nervously.  The  sun 
had  set  and  the  glow  had  all  gone  out  of  the  room. 

Dr.  Maynard  didn't  answer  me.  He  just  stood 
there  like  a  stone  man.  Oh,  I  think  that  silences  are 
the  most  awfully  eloquent  things  in  the  world! 

"  It's  getting  dark,"  I  added  desperately. 

Without  a  word  Dr.  Maynard  went  to  the  library 
door  and  opened  it.  I  followed.  Then  to  the  front 
door  and  opened  that.  He  stood  holding  it  back,  still 
not  speaking  (but  I  could  feel  his  gaze  burning  into 
me)  and  I  sped  past  him  out  into  the  dusk,  like  a  wild 
bird  out  of  a  cage. 

I  don't  know  how  I  got  home.  I  half  ran,  half 
stumbled  along  the  frozen  road.  My  heart  was 
thumping,  and  though  I  wasn't  a  bit  cold  (my  cheeks 
fairly  burned)  my  teeth  chattered  as  if  I  were  chilled 
through.  When  I  reached  the  house  there  was  a 
funny,  choking  feeling  in  my  throat,  and  I  dashed  up 
to  my  room  and  locked  myself  in. 

All  this  last  took  place  not  eight  hours  ago  and  it 
is  very  late  Christmas  night. 

When  I  write  down  what  has  happened  it  seems 
absurd  to  be  excited.  But  when  I  think  of  it  —  when 
I  close  my  eyes,  see  his  gaze,  hear  his  voice,  I  can't 


136      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

sleep.  So  I  have  climbed  up  into  my  cupola.  I  have 
been  sitting  looking  up  at  the  stars.  They  are  very 
bright  to-night.  There  are  millions  shining. 

I  can  see  most  all  the  houses  in  Hilton  from  my 
eyrie.  They  are  dark  now.  It  is  after  twelve.  But 
there  are  two  windows  aglow.  I  can  see  them  shi 
ning,  side  by  side  like  eyes,  through  the  bare  limbs  of 
our  apple  orchard.  They  are  western  windows,  in 
a  white  house,  and  eight  hours  ago  the  setting  sun 
shone  into  them,  upon  Dr.  Maynard  in  his  riding 
clothes.  I  wonder  what  he  is  doing  so  late. 

It's  a  lovely  night  —  cold,  clear  and  so  still.  I'd 
like  to  walk  twenty  miles  before  morning.  I'd  like  to 
fly  a  thousand. 

O  Father,  I  don't  know  why  it  is  —  it  doesn't 
seem  right,  for  the  awful  shadow  is  still  over  our 
house  and  Alec  hasn't  smiled  all  day  —  but  this  —  oh, 
this  is  my  happiest  Christmas  too! 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  a  certain  night  in  April  I  was  in  the  sitting- 
room  trying  to  keep  awake  until  Alec  came 
home.  His  train  was  not  due  until  midnight.  I  was 
awfully  anxious  to  wait  up  for  him,  but  at  ten  o'clock 
I  was  so  sleepy  that  I  couldn't  keep  my  eyes  open 
another  minute.  So  I  went  to  Father's  roll-top  desk 
and  scribbled  this  on  a  piece  of  paper:  "Dear  Alec 
—  Be  sure  and  stop  at  my  room  when  you  come  in>. 
Bobbie,"  and  fastened  it  with  a  wire  hairpin  on  the 
light  that  I  left  burning. 

Alec  and  I  were  on  friendly  terms  again,  and  the 
whole  world  was  smiling  for  me.  I  didn't  care  if  the 
"  For  Sale  "  was  still  hitting  me  in  the  face  every 
time  I  entered  the  yard,  since  Alec  had  put  me  back 
in  charge  of  the  Household  Account.  I  might  have 
known  my  cheque-book  wouldn't  have  lied  for  me. 
Alec  didn't  get  around  to  look  into  my  bookkeeping 
until  about  the  first  of  January,  and  then  he  was  so 
delighted  to  discover  that  I  hadn't  failed  in  my  trust, 
after  all,  that  he  couldn't  reinstate  me  quickly 
enough.  It  was  so  good  to  be  friends  again, 
such  a  relief  to  have  his  faith  in  me  restored  and 
made  whole,  that  I  guess  he  didn't  want  to  risk  urging 
me  to  explain  what  I  really  wanted  the  seventy-five 
dollars  for.  "  I  know  you'll  explain  all  about  it, 
sometime,"  he  said.  And  I  replied,  "  Sometime, 
Alec."  That  was  the  way  our  quarrel  ended.  The 
next  morning  I  walked  to  the  factory  with  my  brother ; 

i37 


138      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

the  next  evening  I  sat  with  him  by  the  drop-light  and 
when  he  went  to  bed  I  carried  to  his  room  some  hot 
milk  and  crackers  so  that  he  would  sleep.  Since  then 
we  have  been  nearer  to  each  other  than  ever  before. 

There  is  something  beautiful  about  our  relations. 
I'd  die  for  Alec.  I  don't  believe  there  ever  has  been 
a  brother  and  sister  more  congenial  than  Alec  and  I. 
I  know  just  how  to  please  him,  and  he  knows  better 
than  any  one  in  this  world  how  to  manage  me. 
There  isn't  a  prouder  girl  alive  than  I,  when  Alec 
confides  his  business  affairs  to  me.  I  do  not  under 
stand  them  very  well.  Companies  and  Cooperations, 
Preferred  and  Common  Stock,  Bonds  and  Bank-notes 
are  all  a  perfect  jumble  in  my  mind.  But  I've  learned 
long  ago,  that  nothing  will  shut  a  man  up  more  quickly 
than  a  comment  on  a  girl's  part  that  shows  him  how 
ignorant  she  is.  So  now  I  keep  still ;  listen  as  hard 
and  closely  as  I  can ;  sympathise  with  my  whole  heart 
when  Alec  is  worried,  and  rejoice  with  him  when  he 
announces  that  some  Boston  bank  or  other  has  lent 
him  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  although  I  am 
frightened  to  death  of  borrowing.  I  never  give  my 
brother  a  chance  to  scoff  at  a  girl's  comprehension  of 
business  transactions.  The  result  is,  he  talks  to  me 
by  the  hour,  and  thinks  I  understand  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  do.  £ 

Ever  since  last  Christmas  Alec  has  been  running 
down  to  New  York  about  every  two  weeks.  There 
was  a  big  order  that  he  was  trying  to  secure,  besides 
some  sort  of  an  arrangement  he  wanted  to  work  up 
with  some  rich  men  down  there  to  increase  the  capital 
stock  of  the  business,  I  think  he  said.  I  have  an 
idea,  though  I  never  asked,  that  if  he  could  have 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       139 

worked  that  arrangement  it  would  have  saved  the 
business  from  peril  of  failing.  Alec  used  to  stay  in 
New  York  about  three  days  usually,  and  always  came 
home  a  little  more  worried,  anxious,  and  discouraged 
than  when  he  started. 

This  time  he  had  been  away  almost  two  weeks. 
I  had  had  only  one  short  note  from  him  written  the 
day  after  he  left  home.  Since  then  I  had  not  heard 
from  him  until  his  telegram  had  arrived  announcing 
he  would  reach  Hilton  on  the  midnight  from  New 
York. 

It  was  a  cold  blustering  night  for  April,  and  before 
I  went  to  bed  myself,  I  went  up  into  Alec's  third- 
floor  room,  turned  on  the  heat,  filled  a  hot-water  bag 
and  stuck  it  down  between  the  cold  sheets  of  his  bed. 

I  must  have  been  sleeping  very  soundly  when  Alec 
stole  into  my  room  at  twelve-thirty.  I  didn't  know 
he  was  in  the  house,  until  I  felt  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  his  gentle,  "  Hello,  Bobbie !  "  I  woke 
up  with  a  glad  start  and  found  him  sitting  on  the  side 
of  my  bed.  "My,  what  a  sleeper!"  he  said  and 
leaned  down  and  kissed  my  forehead. 

I  knew  from  the  first  whiff  that  Alec  must  have 
been  sitting  in  the  smoking-car  (he  doesn't  smoke  him 
self)  and  I  drew  in  a  fine,  long  breath  before  I  spoke. 

"  Oh,  Alec,"  I  exclaimed,  "  how  beautifully  New 
Yorky  you  smell !  " 

"  Do  I,  funny  Bobbikins  ?  "  he  laughed  at  me,  and 
at  the  sound  of  that  name  which  Alec  had  not  called 
me  by  for  six  months,  a  thrill  of  new  courage  ran 
through  me. 

I  sat  up. 

"  Alec,"   I   said,   "  you've  brought  good  news.     I 


140      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

know  it !  I  know  it !  I  knew  we  couldn't  fail.  I've 
felt  it  all  along.  I  knew  Father's  dear  old  business 
wouldn't  go  back  on  us.  I  had  a  feeling  that  this 
trip  to  New  York  would  be  a  lucky  one." 

"  I've  been  farther  than  New  York,  Bobbie.  I've 
been  to  Pinehurst,  North  Carolina,"  Alec  announced. 

"  To  Pinehurst !  Mercy !  Whatever  in  the  world 
—  do  tell  me  every  word.  I'm  simply  crazy  to  hear 
all  about  it." 

"  Well—"  he  began.  "  Say,  Bobbikins,"  he  broke 
off,  "  would  you  be  very  much  surprised  to  know  that 
it  is  —  all  right  between  Edith  and  me?" 

Alec  might  as  well  have  struck  off  on  a  tangent 
about  George  Washington  or  Joan  of  Arc. 

"Edith?"  I  gasped. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Alec  gently ;  "  Edith  Campbell. 
Of  course  you've  known  I've  cared  for  no  one  else  for 
the  last  ten  years.  The  business  and  our  large  family 
have  always  made  it  seem  rather  hopeless.  But  when 
I  was  in  New  York  I  had  a  common  little  picture 
post-card  from  Edith,  who  was  at  Pinehurst,  and 
your  disgraceful  old  brother  here  dropped  everything 
and  went  down  there.  I  was  there  for  six  whole 
days,  and  she  and  her  family  and  I  all  came  home 
together  to-night  after  two  rather  nice  days  in  New 
York.  She's  actually  got  a  ring  in  a  little  blue  velvet 
box  which  she's  going  to  wear  for  me  a  little  later, 
Bobbie."  He  tried  to  say  it  lightly  but  his  whole 
voice  was  exulting.  "  You  see,  I  had  to  come  in  and 
tell  my  partner,  didn't  I?  She  would  have  to  know 
first  of  all  about  such  a  great  piece  of  news." 

He  stopped  and  I  sat  perfectly  silent,  stunned  for 
an  instant,  not  knowing  quite  what  had  struck  me  and 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       141 

knocked  me  down  with  my  breath  all  gone.  Alec 
waited  and  I  tried  to  jump  up,  as  it  were,  and  speak, 
so  he  would  know  I  wasn't  dead. 

"  Why,  Alec  Vars !  "  I  managed  to  gasp,  and  then 
the  horror  of  his  news  flashed  over  me.  The  man  I 
loved  best  in  the  whole  world  had  just  told  me  that  he 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  girl  whom  I  abhorred ! 
I  wanted  to  scream;  I  wanted  to  bury  my  face  in  my 
pillow  and  cry ;  I  wanted  to  say,  "  Oh,  go  away,  go 
away,  Alexander  Vars.  Leave  me  alone.  I  want  to 
die."  But  instead  I  remarked  quite  calmly,  "  You  en 
gaged?  To  Edith  Campbell?  My  goodness,  but  I'm 
surprised."  And  then  warned  by  the  choke  in  my 
voice,  I  switched  off  into  something  commonplace. 
"  Say,  would  you  mind,"  I  said  jovially  enough,  "  just 
removing  your  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds  off 
my  left  foot  there?  You're  crushing  the  bones  in  it." 

Alec  leaned  forward  and  kissed  me  hard. 

"  You  little  brick  of  a  Bobbie !  I  knew  you'd  take 
it  like  a  soldier." 

I  gulped  down  a  disgusting  sob. 

"  But  wasn't  I  the  goose,"  I  hurried  like  mad  to 
say,  for  I  was  afraid  I'd  break  down  and  bawl  like  a 
baby  before  his  very  eyes,  "  wasn't  I  the  little  goose 
to  think  it  was  the  business  that  made  you  so  happy?  " 

"  Oh,  the  business,"  Alec  announced,  "  is  bound  to 
succeed  now." 

"  Sure,"  I  broke  in  hastily,  "  just  bound  to.  It's 
awfully  nice,  all  around,  isn't  it?  And  I — "  I 
floundered  on,  "  I  am  just  —  just  pleased!  " 

The  hall  clock  struck  one.  I  grasped  the  blessed 
sound  like  a  sinking  man. 

"Is    that    twelve-thirty,    one,    or    one-thirty?     I 


!142      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

haven't  the  ghost  of  an  idea,"  I  said  lightly.  Then 
desperately,  at  the  breaking  point,  I  gasped,  "  Is  it 
cold  out?" 

Alec  patted  my  hand. 

"  Brave  girl !  I  understand.  But  don't  you  worry. 
Everything  will  work  out  all  right.  Now  I'll  say 
good-night." 

I  think  Alec  must  have  seen  I  couldn't  hold  in  much 
longer.  I  was,  in  fact,  using  every  atom  of  strength 
that  I  possessed  to  fight  that  pushing,  shoving,  tum 
bling  crowd  of  lumps  and  sobs  in  my  throat.  Just 
as  Alec  was  closing  my  door  I  managed  to  call  after 
him,  so  that  he  might  know  that  I  wasn't  crying,  "  Be 
sure  and  turn  out  the  lights." 

"  All  right,  General-manager." 

"  And  say,"  I  added,  "  you  know  I  think  it's  per 
fectly  fine." 

"  Surely !     Good-night." 

Then  my  door  closed,  and  I  sank  down  on  my  pil 
low,  opened  the  gates  wide,  and  let  the  torrent  of  sobs 
rush  through. 

Can  any  one  realise  the  torture  of  my  mind  during 
the  long  dark  hours  of  that  night?  I  hardly  can 
realise  it  now,  myself.  The  fact,  "  ALEC  is  EN 
GAGED  TO  EDITH  CAMPBELL  ! "  glared  at  me  hor 
ribly  as  if  it  were  printed  in  enormous  white  let- 
'ters  on  a  black  ground,  like  a  big  sign  on  a  factory, 
and  I  stared  and  stared,  hypnotised,  beyond  power  of 
thought.  I  was  so  stunned  and  overcome  by  the  fact 
itself  that  at  first  I  was  unable  to  compre 
hend  what  it  would  mean  to  me.  I  hated  Edith 
Campbell.  All  my  life  I  had  hated  her.  She  had 
always  treated  Alec  like  the  dirt  under  her  feet  —  for- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      143 

ever  flaunting  Palm  Beach  and  Poland  Springs  in 
his  face  and  eyes,  parading  to  church  every  other  Sun 
day  with  smart  stylish-looking  men  and  planting  them 
down  in  the  pew  two  rows  in  front  of  ours  to  show 
them  off. 

Of  course  I  had  guessed  that  Alec  had  liked 
Edith  Campbell.  As  long  ago  as  I  can  remember 
he  used  to  call  on  her  when  she  came  home  from 
her  fashionable  New  York  boarding-school.  Alec  in 
vited  her  to  be  his  special  guest,  at  his  Class-Day, 
when  he  graduated  from  college.  But  she  elected  to 
go  with  somebody  else,  and  pranced  down  there  with 
a  millionaire's  son.  Poor  Alec  didn't  invite  any  other 
girl.  I  was  in  knee  skirts  then,  but  I  was  old  enough 
to  hate  her  for  it.  Not  that  I  wanted  such  a  creature 
to  be  nice  to  Alec.  I  didn't.  I  knew  my  brother  was 
miles  too  good  for  her,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to  have 
such  a  flashy,  worldly,  inferior  girl  show  scorn  to 
ward  a  prince.  I  never  understood  why  Alec  had 
admired  her.  She's  absolutely  opposite  from  my 
brother  in  every  possible  way.  She  has  the  most 
confident,  cock-surest  manner  I  ever  witnessed.  Her 
clothes  are  dreadfully  flashy  and  her  father  is  a  mere 
upstart  who  squeezes  money  out  of  everybody  he 
knows.  Hilton  used  to  criticise  Edith  Campbell  be 
fore  it  commenced  bowing  and  scraping  to  her. 
When  she  came  home  from  boarding-school,  she  let 
it  be  known  that  her  intimate  friends  lived  outside  of 
Hilton.  She  advertised  that  she  visited  at  some  of 
the  big  places  in  the  Berkshires.  She  merely  toler 
ated  Hilton  and  its  people. 

Oh,  I  hate  her !  I  never  saw  why  men  ran  after  her 
so  frantically.  It  used  to  make  me  absolutely  sick 


144      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

when  the  younger  girls  in  Hilton  got  the  Edith  Camp 
bell  craze.  They  used  to  try  to  copy  everything  she 
wore.  But  /  didn't.  I  wouldn't  as  much  as  turn  my 
head  to  look  at  her.  I  was  delighted  when  Alec 
stopped  going  to  see  her.  I  had  thought,  when  Alec 
announced  his  engagement  to  me,  that  that  little  ro 
mance  of  his  had  been  dead  and  buried  for  five  years. 
It  hadn't  even  worried  me. 

When  I  awoke  the  morning  after  Alec  told  me  his 
astonishing  news,  and  saw  the  sun  shining  in  a  square 
on  the  wall  opposite  me,  I  lay  very  still  for  a  mo 
ment.  "  You've  had  a  horrible  dream,"  I  said. 
"  Alec  didn't  come  home  last  night.  Just  a  minute, 
and  things  will  get  themselves  fixed."  I  sat  up,  but 
the  dream  didn't  fade.  There  was  the  tell-tale  towel 
with  which  I  had  bathed  my  eyes;  there  the  glass  of 
water;  there  the  dissipated-looking  candle  burned 
down  to  its  very  last;  here  the  confused  tossed  bed 
clothes,  and  when  I  staggered  to  the  mirror,  there 
were  my  swollen  red  eyes  and  awful  tangled  hair.  I 
dressed  slowly,  with  a  very  heavy  heart,  and  unable 
to  cry  any  more,  smiled  at  myself  once  or  twice  in  the 
glass  out  of  grim  spite. 

I  had  not  gone  to  sleep  until  it  had  begun  to  grow 
light.  I  remembered  now.  And  it  was  nine  o'clock 
when  I  went  downstairs  for  an  attempt  at  breakfast. 
Ruth  was  devouring  eggs  when  I  went  into  the  dining- 
room.  I  had  thought  she  would  be  at  school,  but  I 
had  forgotten  that  it  was  Saturday.  Alec  had  already 
gone  to  the  factory.  His  eggy  plate  and  half-filled 
coffee-cup  stood  at  his  deserted  place. 

"  My,  but  you're  late,"  said  Ruth,  emptying  the 
cream-pitcher  into  her  coffee.  "  Say,  isn't  it  corking 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      145 

about  Alec?  We've  been  sitting  here  hours  talking 
about  it.  I  think  it's  simply  dandy.  Just  imagine  — 
Edith  Campbell!" 

I  became  very  busy  fixing  my  cuff-link,  for  I  was 
ashamed  of  my  swollen  eyes;  but  Ruth  was  sure  to 
see  them.  She  glanced  up. 

"  I  might  have  known  you'd  take  it  like  that,"  she 
broke  out,  though  I  hadn't  said  a  word ;  "  always  act 
ing  like  a  thunder-cloud,  and  throwing  wet  blankets 
on  everything.  Now  why  in  the  world  shouldn't  Alec 
get  married  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  he  shouldn't,"  I  murmured. 

"  Well,"  went  on  Ruth,  "  Edith  Campbell  is  great. 
I  can't  get  over  the  fact,  that  with  all  the  men  she's 
known,  she  likes  Alec  better  than  any  of  them.  She's 
dreadfully  popular.  I'll  bet  she's  had  a  dozen  pro 
posals.  Oh,  I  think  AFs  done  awfully  well.  The 
Campbells  have  piles  of  money.  I  know  her  younger 
sister  Millicent,  and  their  house  beats  anything  I  ever 
saw.  You  ought  to  see  it.  And  besides,  Edith  Camp 
bell  is  the  best-looking  thing!  She's  stunning  on  a 
horse." 

Ruth  always  antagonises  me  when  she  talks  about 
people  she  admires. 

"  /  think,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  Edith  Camp 
bell  is  common  and  loud  and  vulgar." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  retorted  Ruth.  "  I'm  simply 
wild  about  the  whole  thing.  The  Campbells  are  going 
to  do  this  tumbledown  old  ark  all  over,  for  a  wedding 
present,  and  Al  says  her  father  is  going  to  insist  on 
Edith's  bringing  her  horses  with  her.  I  don't  call 
that  common  or  vulgar.  I  call  it  generous !  " 

"  Is  she  going  to  live  here  ?  "  I  gasped. 


146      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"Of  course  she  is.  Where  else?  And  Alec  says 
that  you  and  I  will  each  have  a  perfectly  lovely  room, 
and  divide  our  time  between  here  and  Tom's.  I  tell 
you  what,  I'm  glad  for  one,  that  we  won't  have  to 
live  like  pigs  any  more.  Edith  Campbell  is  used  to 
piles  of  servants!  " 

I  don't  know  why  Ruth's  words  made  me  so  terribly 
angry. 

"  Ruth  Chenery  Vars,"  I  said,  "  I  hate  Edith  Camp 
bell,  and  I'll  never  live  under  the  same  roof  with  her. 
I  never  will.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  I  never  will !  " 

Ruth  glanced  up  and  met  my  fiery  eyes. 

"  Mercy,"  she  said,  simply  disgusted,  "  why  get  so 
everlasting  mad  ?  " 

I  shoved  back  my  chair  and  left  the  table  quietly, 
hurried  up  the  stairs  straight  to  my  disheveled  room, 
and  locked  the  door  tight.  My  mind  was  clear  now 
all  right;  I  could  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the 
awful  black  and  white  sign  now,  without  any  difficulty. 
I  was  no  goose  not  to  know  perfectly  well  that  Alec's 
engagement  meant  that  Miss  Lucy  Vars  would  be  re 
quested  to  hand  in  her  resignation  as  General-man 
ager,  Keeper-of-the-Household-Account,  Bosser-of- 
the-meals,  Mother-of-the-family,  and  oh,  too,  Partner- 
of-Alec.  Why,  I  had  poured  the  coffee  at  our  table 
ever  since  the  day  Father  had  put  me  there  in  Mother's 
empty  chair.  I  had  always  sat  there,  pushed  the  bell, 
and  told  the  maid  to  take  off  the  plates  for  dessert. 
My  place  had  always  been  opposite  Father,  and  after 
he  had  gone,  Alec  had  sat  there.  Ever  since,  he  and 
I  had  held  the  reins  together.  There  wasn't  a  chair 
nor  a  rug,  nor  a  table  in  the  house  that  I  hadn't  put  in 
position.  There  wasn't  a  pound  of  sugar,  nor  a  half- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       147 

dozen  oranges  in  the  pantry  that  I  had  not  ordered. 
For  five  years  there  hadn't  been  a  servant  engaged  by 
any  one  but  me.  Now,  suddenly,  all  such  an  arrange 
ment  was  to  be  at  an  end.  Ruth  was  delighted;  Alec 
was  supremely  happy ;  the  twins,  who  worship  anything 
that  means  more  cash,  would  be  transported  with  joy. 
Everybody,  in  fact,  would  delight  in  a  change  in  ad 
ministration  —  everybody  but  the  poor  old  dethroned 
ruler,  who  was  locked  in  her  desolate  room  trying  to 
find  consolation  in  vigorously  making  her  bed. 

When  Alec  came  home  at  noon  I  saw  him  scanning 
my  impassive  face,  for  I  had  not  been  crying  since  the 
night  before,  and  the  trace  of  tears  was  gone.  After 
our  regular  Saturday  boiled  dinner  he  asked  me  to 
come  into  the  sitting-room.  He  closed  the  doors  care 
fully  and  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  couch.  I  wished 
he  wouldn't  take  my  hand  for  it  was  chapped  and  red, 
and  of  course  he  had  held  hers,  for  which  he  had 
bought  the  beautiful  ring  in  the  little  blue  velvet  box, 
and  hers  would  be  soft  and  white.  I  drew  mine  away. 
Alec  talked  to  me  gently  and  told  me  about  the  ar 
rangements.  I  heard  him  say  with  a  dull  shock,  that 
they  would  be  married  in  the  early  fall.  I  remember 
wondering  how  they  had  decided  such  details  in  the 
course  of  ten  days.  I  soon  discovered  that  they  had 
managed  to  go  over  the  whole  ground.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  question  undecided,  no  points  untouched. 
Ruth,  he  said,  would  start  in  at  boarding-school  in 
the  fall ;  the  twins  of  course  would  continue  at  college 
and  their  vacations  would,  as  usual,  be  spent  at  home. 
He  repeated  what  I  already  very  well  knew  that  after 
the  twins  graduated  they  would  probably  go  out  West 
and  start  into  one  of  Tom's  lumber  camps. 


148      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  So  there'll  just  be  me  left,"  I  hurried  to  say,  kind 
of  to  help  him  out. 

"  And,  of  course,  you'll  live  right  along  here  with 
us,"  he  said,  "  except,  once  in  a  while,  when  Tom  and 
Elise  want  you  there  with  them." 

"  I'm  worse  to  dispose  of  than  a  mother-in-law,"  I 
half  laughed,  sorry  in  a  moment  that  I  had  spoken  so, 
for  Alec  looked  hurt,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Bobbie 
dear!" 

"  Oh,  I'll  try,  Alec,  I  really  will,"  I  reassured  him, 
for  Alec  always  brings  out  the  best  in  me. 

"And  go  and  see  Edith  very  soon?"  he  said,  fol 
lowing  me  up  cruelly.  "  She'll  be  expecting  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  try,"  I  murmured,  biting  my  trem 
bling  under  lip. 

"  Good  girl !  I  knew  I  could  count  on  you.  You'll 
like  Edith,"  he  said.  "  And  she  wants  to  be  awfully 
kind  to  you  and  Ruth.  I  know  you'll  try  and  make 
it  easy  for  her,  Bobbie,"  he  added,  and  left  me  as 
cheerfully  as  a  summer's  breeze. 

Late  that  afternoon,  about  five  I  think,  I  started  out 
for  a  walk  in  Buxton's  woods,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
back  of  our  house.  I  hadn't  been  gone  very  long 
when  I  heard  a  step  behind  me,  and  turning  around  I 
saw,  mounted  on  her  stunning  black  Kentucky  thor 
oughbred,  Edith  Campbell,  coming  toward  me.  I 
wanted  to  run  away,  to  hide  perhaps  behind  a  tree 
and  let  her  pass,  but  I  couldn't  for  she  had  caught 
sight  of  me. 

"  Hold  on,"  she  called.  "  Wait  a  minute,"  and  she 
drew  up  beside  me.  "  Hello,  Lucy,"  she  said  in  her 
familiar,  breezy  \vay.  "  Now  isn't  this  luck  ?  "  Her 
dark,  crisp  hair  was  neat  and  firm  beneath  the  little 


149 

black  derby  —  an  affectation  in  dress  that  no  one  wears 
riding  in  Hilton  except  Edith  Campbell.  She  didn't 
have  them  on  to-day,  but  usually  she  wears  long  green 
drop-earrings,  screwed  on,  I  think  —  too  New  Yorky 
for  anything.  "  Wait  a  jiffy,"  she  laughed,  "  and  I'll 
walk  along  with  you.  Pierre  here,  can  mosey  along 
behind."  She  sprang  down  from  her  saddle  like  a 
sporty  horse-woman,  came  up  and  thrust  out  a  gaunt 
let-gloved  hand  to  me.  She  gave  me  a  Hercules  grip. 
"Has  Al  told  you?"  she  asked,  plunging  straight 
ahead,  with  no  delicacy. 

"  Yes,  he  has,"  I  stammered,  "  and  —  I  congratu 
late  you  both,"  I  finished  desperately. 

It  did  sound  stiff  and  formal  and  schoolgirlish,  but 
I  was  angry  with  Edith  Campbell  when  she  laughed 
at  me  and  exclaimed,  "  You  funny  old-fashioned 
child!" 

She  arranged  one  pair  of  reins  over  her  horse's 
neck  and  used  the  other  pair  for  a  lead,  slipping  her 
arm  through  the  loop. 

"  Come  on  now,  let's  walk,"  she  said  and  put  her 
free  arm  through  mine,  a  familiarity  from  the  won 
derful  Edith  Campbell  for  which  even  sensible  Juliet 
would  envy  me.  /  wanted  to  edge  away  from  her. 
"  Alec,"  she  went  on,  "  thinks  the  world  and  all  of 
you,  Bobbie,"  (as  if  she  had  to  inform  me!)  "and  I 
want  you  to  know  right  off,  you  won't  be  losing  a 
brother,  simply  gaining  a  sister."  (Usual,  mean 
ingless  words!  As  if  Ruth  wasn't  more  than  enough 
anyhow.  "  And  another  thing,"  she  ploughed  ahead, 
"  there  will  always  be  a  room  in  our  house  for  Bobbie. 
One  of  the  things  I  told  Alec  was  that  he  must  look 
out  for  his  sisters." 


150      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Alec  would   do  that   anyway,"   I   said. 

"  Of  course.     Nice  old  Al!     He's  as  good  as  gold." 

I  couldn't  bear  her  patronising  manner.  She  has 
always  treated  Alec  like  that,  just  because  she  had 
money  and  he  had  nothing  but  goodness.  I  turned 
to  her  seriously. 

"  Miss  Campbell,"  I  asked,  "  how  did  you  come  to 
want  to  marry  Alec?  " 

"  You  amusing  chicken !  "  she  laughed,  then  pinch 
ing  me  disgustingly  on  the  arm,  she  added  in  a  sly 
way,  "  You  wait,  you'll  know  when  the  right  one 
comes." 

I  flushed  but  held  my  peace. 

"  I  was  only  wondering,"  I  said.  "  Alec  has  so 
little  money,  and  you  —  I  mean  our  business  —  our 
success  is  so  uncertain." 

"  Alec  is  bound  to  succeed  now,"  she  replied  in  her 
cock-sure  way.  "  I  told  Al  there  was  no  such  word  in 
my  vocabulary  as  failure.  Besides  Father  is  going  to 
look  into  the  business,  and  Father  never  touched  a 
thing  that  wasn't  successful." 

"  Your  father !  "  I  gasped  with  the  colour  again  in 
my  face.  Her  father  used  to  collect  junk-iron. 
"  Our  business !  " 

"  Oh,  come,  come.  Just  like  Al  at  first.  This  Vars 
pride !  Don't  you  see,  my  dear,  that,  independent  of, 
weddings,  a  man  can  put  a  little  life  into  a  dead  bus 
iness  if  he  wants  to?  " 

"  My  father's  business  isn't  dead,"  I  exclaimed, 
now  filled  with  indignation. 

"  Oh,  come,  Bobbikins !  " 

"  Don't  call  me  that,  please,"  I  said  and  drew  away 
my  arm. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      151 

"  Tut,  tut !  Come  now !  You  and  I  are  going  to 
be  friends."  She  treated  me  as  if  I  were  aged  five. 
"  You  know,"  she  went  on,  "  when  I  come,  I  think 
there'll  be  an  extra  saddle  horse,  in  one  of  the  stalls 
in  your  stable."  She  used  that  mysterious  tone  you 
do  to  children  when  talking  about  Santa  Claus.  "  I 
think  if  you  will  look  very  hard  you  will  find  your 
initials  on  him  somewhere,  Bobbie." 

"  I  wouldn't  touch  it,  Miss  Campbell.  I  wouldn't 
touch  one  hair  of  the  horse;  and  please  call  me  Lucy." 

We  were  breaking  out  of  the  narrow  wood-path, 
and  coming  to  a  travelled  road.  We  walked  in  silence 
till  we  reached  the  highway.  It  was  almost  dark. 
Suddenly  Edith  Campbell  spoke. 

"  I  must  be  hustling  homeward,"  she  said  glibly, 
and  as  if  nothing  unpleasant  had  occurred  between  us 
she  asked,  "  Lend  me  your  hand,  will  you,  Bobbie, 
please  ?  " 

I  helped  her  mount,  in  silence. 

"  That's  the  way,"  she  said.  "  Thanks.  Now  look 
here,  poor  little  childie,"  she  broke  off,  looking  down 
at  me  like  a  queen  from  her  saddle,  "  whenever  you're 
ready  to  be  friends,  remember,  so  am  I.  All  right, 
Pierre !  "  and  she  cantered  off  in  the  dusk. 

I  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment,  and  then  right  to 
that  lonely,  empty  road,  I  said  out  loud,  "  I  can't  live 
with  her.  I  can't  —  I  can't !  Dear  Alec,  I  tried. 
Dear  Father  and  Tom  and  Elise,  I  tried,  but  I  can't, 
I  can't !  "  And  all  the  dark  .way  home,  all  the  long 
night  through,  I  ran  over  and  over  the  words  like  a 
squirrel  in  a  revolving  cage. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FOR  three  days  and  nights  I  wandered  over  the 
ruins  of  my  life,  back  and  forth,  helpless,  almost 
driven  mad  by  the  horror  of  it;  and  then  at  last  Dr. 
Maynard  came.  I  had  not  realised  that  he  had  been 
out  of  town.  I  had  been  so  stunned  by  Alec's  an 
nouncement  that  I  had  not  missed  him.  He  had  been 
down  to  Baltimore  for  three  days  attending  some  sort 
of  a  medical  conference  and  I  had  not  known  that  he 
had  been  outside  of  Hilton. 

Dr.  Maynard  and  I  were  as  good  friends  as  ever 
now.  Three  whole  months  had  passed  since  that 
Christmas  Day  when  he  discovered  my  sofa-pillow 
on  his  desk,  and  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
had  been  merely  surprised  into  his  queer  behaviour 
that  day.  He  had  never  shown  a  scrap  of  the  same 
emotion  since.  I  remember  the  very  next  time  I  saw 
him  he  had  dropped  that  newly  acquired  gravity  of 
his.  Somehow  I  had  been  disappointed.  When  he 
referred  to  my  pillow  in  his  old  natural,  jovial  way, 
I  had  been  hurt.  "  I  tell  you  what,"  he  had  said,  "  I 
feel  like  an  undergraduate  again.  Nice  girl  like  Lucy 
Vars  making  me  a  pillow  for  my  room !  Won't  you 
come  to  my  Class-Day?"  he  had  laughed.  It  was  I 
who  had  flushed  then.  I  managed  to  throw  back 
some  sort  of  a  careless  rejoinder,  but  I  tell  you,  I 
didn't  waste  any  more  madly  happy  moments  on  Dr. 
Maynard.  Grey -haired  old  bachelor!  He  was  old 
enough  to  be  my  uncle  anyhow!  We  had  resumed 

152 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      153 

our  automobile  rides  just  as  naturally  as  if  he'd  never 
acted  queerly  at  all.  We  took  up  our  jolly  repartee, 
returned  to  our  old  plane  of  good-comradeship,  ex 
actly  as  if  I  had  never  seen  him  gaze  at  my  picture, 
and  heard  his  voice  tremble  when  he  told  me  I  had 
made  his  Christmas  the  very  happiest  in  his  life.  / 
didn't  care.  I  was  glad  of  it.  I  had  never  wanted 
Dr.  Maynard  for  a  lover!  But  I  wanted  him  for  a 
friend. 

I  don't  believe  I  quite  appreciated  how  much  I 
wanted  him,  until  he  came  back  from  Baltimore  and 
discovered  me  wandering  about  my  ruins  like  a  ma 
niac.  When  I  found  myself  bundled  up  in  Father's 
old  ulster,  again  beside  him  in  his  automobile,  flashing 
through  the  cool  night  air,  a  great  wave  of  relief  ran 
over  me.  Dr.  Maynard  has  seen  me  through  so  much 
trouble,  brought  me  safely  over  so  many  difficulties, 
that  it  was  a  comfort  just  to  sit  beside  him  in  silence. 
When  we  had  reached  a  good  clear  stretch  of  road,  he 
settled  down  comfortably  behind  the  wheel. 

"  Now  go  ahead,"  he  said  heartily ;  "  the  whole 
story,  please,"  and  I  knew  that  Alec  had  broken  his 
news  to  him. 

"  Well,"  I  started  in,  "  since  you've  been  gone, 
there's  been  a  dreadful  earthquake  around  here." 
(Dr.  Maynard  and  I  adore  to  talk  in  similes.)  "  My 
house  has  been  smashed  up,  and  I'm  a  pitiful  refugee. 
I  am  cold  and  hungry  and  without  a  home." 

"  I've  come  with  supplies,"  laughed  Dr.  Maynard, 
taking  it  up  delightfully.  "  I'm  a  little  late,  but  I've 
brought  bread  and  meat  and  a  tent,  and  want  you  to 
crawl  in  and  warm  up." 

"  I  can't  live  with  her,  Dr.  Maynard.     I  can't !  "  I 


154      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

broke  out,  too  heart-sick  to  play  with  similes  any 
more.  "  I  hate  her  and  I  can't  help  it.  She's  taken 
Alec  away,  she's  pushed  herself  into  my  dear  father's 
business,  and  there's  no  place  for  me,  as  I  can  see, 
anywhere." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Dr.  Maynard,  and  I 
related  every  single  word  of  my  whole  pitiful  story, 
growing  sorrier  and  sorrier  for  myself  as  I  went  along, 
and  finally  at  the  end  breaking  down  completely,  re 
peating  my  old  time-worn  phrase,  "  I  can't  live  with 
her.  I  can't,  can't!"  I  covered  my  face  with  both 
hands.  There  were  tears  trickling  down  my  cheeks. 

Without  a  word  of  advice  or  comfort,  Dr.  Maynard 
shut  off  the  power  and  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill 
by  the  side  of  the  bleak  country  road.  He  took  hold 
of  my  hands  and  gently  drew  them  away  from  my 
face  down  into  my  lap.  Then  in  a  low  voice  with  the 
play  and  banter  all  gone  out  of  it  he  said,  "  Could  you 
live  with  me,  Lucy?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  replied  quickly  enough,  "  fifty  times 
easier!  " 

Perhaps  he  smiled,  for  he  added  half  laughing  and 
yet  gravely,  too,  "  I  would  like  to  have  you,  if  you 
want  to." 

"  I  only  wish  I  could,"  I  said  desperately. 

And  then  very  seriously  and  very  solemnly  he  told 
me  his  story.  I  can't  say  that  I  was  exactly  sur 
prised.  I  had  half  guessed  it  for  the  last  two  years; 
but  then  I  had  half  guessed  a  lot  of  preposterous 
things  that  never  came  true.  "  I  talked  with  Alec 
last  night,"  I  heard  Dr.  Maynard  telling  me  gently, 
"  and  if  you  would  like  —  that  is  if  you  want  to  come 
with  me,  Lucy,  your  brother  would  be  glad  to  have 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       155 

you,  I  am  certain.  This  isn't  the  only  talk  Alec  and 
I  have  had  about  you.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about 
this  last  fall,  but  Al  thought  it  better  to  wait. 
And  I  wanted  to  speak  again  after  —  the  sofa-pillow, 
and  again  Al  couldn't  quite  make  up  his  mind  that 
you  had  grown  up,  and  wanted  me  to  wait  again.  So 
I  did.  You  see,"  he  smiled,  "  it  isn't  a  new  idea  with 
me." 

I  listened  calmly  as  Dr.  Maynard  went  on  talking 
in  his  quiet,  unexcited  manner.  I  didn't  interrupt  his 
long,  well-planned  speech.  I  simply  sat  dumb  with  my 
hands  clasped  tightly  in  my  lap.  I  don't  remember 
that  I  felt  a  single  sensation  during  the  entire  ex 
planation  except  at  the  end  a  kind  of  shock  as  I  thought 
to  myself:  "So  after  all  it's  going  to  be  just  Dr. 
Maynard !  "  For  when  he  had  finally  finished,  I  said 
evenly,  with  the  moon  standing  there  like  a  clergyman 
before  us,  and  all  the  watching  stars  like  witnesses  be 
hind,  "  I  will  come,  Dr.  Maynard,"  and  I  added, 
"  and  I  think  you  are  the  very  kindest  man  I  know." 
For  you  see  he  had  offered  me  his  home,  his  protec 
tion,  and  his  love,  he  said,  for  all  my  life. 

There  was  something  awfully  silent  and  ominous 
about  the  gentle  still  way  he  turned  the  machine 
around  and  started  for  home.  It  was  entirely  differ 
ent  from  what  I  had  guessed  might  take  place.  In  the 
dreams  that  I  had  woven  I  had  never  accepted  Dr. 
Maynard.  I  had  been  grateful  for  his  devotion,  hon 
oured  by  his  proposal,  deeply  sorry  for  his  disappoint 
ment,  but  like  the  girl  in  an  old  play  called  "  Rose 
mary,"  my  heart  belonged  to  one  who  possessed  youth 
and  passion.  In  those  absurd  imaginings  of  mine  I 
used  to  frame  letters  which  I  should  write  to  Juliet 


156      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Adams  about  poor  Will  Maynard.  I  used  to  plan 
just  how  I  should  break  the  news  to  my  brother  Alec. 
But  now  —  Oh,  now,  I  couldn't  write  Juliet  at  all ;  I 
couldn't  tell  Alec ;  I  couldn't  tell  any  one  about  my  first 
proposal.  I  had  accepted  it  in  the  first  half -hour. 
There  was  nothing  thrilling  about  it.  I  sat  like  a 
stone  image  beside  Dr.  Maynard.  I  couldn't  speak. 

"  It  took  you  an  awfully  long  while  to  grow  up," 
he  said  at  last,  half  laughing.  "  I've  actually  grown 
grey  waiting  for  you.  Alec  said  to  me  the  first  time, 
'  Wait  till  she's  nineteen/  and  then,  *  Good  heavens, 
Will,  she's  nothing  but  a  child  yet.  Wait  till  she's 
twenty,'  and  so  on,  and  so  on.  Awful  hindrance,  be 
cause  for  the  last  two  years  I've  been  wanting  to  do 
some  important  research  work  in  Germany.  But  I 
couldn't  leave  you  to  the  wolves.  How  did  I  know 
but  that  some  good-looking  young  chap  would  come 
along  and  snatch  you  up?  But  now,  we'll  go  to  Ger 
many  together,  and,  Lucy,"  he  said,  "  Lucy  — "  but 
I  didn't  want  Dr.  Maynard  to  grow  serious.  I  think 
he  must  have  seen  me  kind  of  cringe  away  for  he 
broke  off  lightly  enough,  "  and  perhaps  some  fine  day 
the  refugee  and  I  will  be  seeing  Paris  together." 

I  stole  into  the  house  that  night  very  quietly,  crept 
up  to  my  room  and  closed  the  door  without  a  sound. 
I  wanted  to  be  alone.  I  was  suddenly  filled  with  a 
kind  of  panic-stricken  wonder,  for  there  had  been 
actual  tears  in  Dr.  Maynard's  eyes  when  he  took  my 
hand  at  the  door  '(I  hadn't  known  how  to  say  good 
night  to  him),  a  tremble  in  his  voice  that  awed  and 
frightened  me.  He  acted  very  much  as  he  had  about 
my  Christmas  present.  It  had  made  me  happy  then, 
but,  you  see  then  I  hadn't  just  promised  to  marry 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       157 

him.  Oh,  I  hated  having  him  look  so  serious  and 
solemn  about  it,  and  now  as  I  stood  a  moment  with 
my  back  against  my  closed  door,  my  hat  and  coat  still 
on,  I  pressed  my  two  cool  hands  against  my  burning 
cheeks  and  tried  to  comprehend  a  little  of  what  it  all 
meant.  Suddenly  I  crossed  the  room,  pulled  on  the 
gas  by  my  bureau,  leaned  forward  and  gazed  grimly  at 
my  familiar  old  face  in  the  glass  before  me.  So  this 
was  what  was  to  become  of  Lucy  Chenery  Vars,  I 
thought  calmly ;  this  was  her  story ;  this  was  her  end ; 
and  oh,  to  think  that  all  the  beautiful  unknown  future 
of  the  person  in  the  glass  before  me  was  wiped  out 
and  decided  in  one  fell  swoop,  made  me  want  to  throw 
my  arms  about  her  image  and  kiss  her  for  pity.  I 
turned  away. 

Of  course  I  liked  Dr.  Maynard  —  I  had  always 
liked  him.  And  his  big,  empty,  white-pillared  house 
was  in  the  very  town,  on  the  very  street  of  my  dear 
beloved  home.  There  was  a  place  for  me  there. 
Alec  had  given  Dr.  Maynard  to  understand  that  there 
would  be  no  objection  from  him.  Probably  it  seemed 
to  Alec  a  good  way  to  dispose  of  me.  Oh,  there  was 
everything  in  favour  of  the  arrangement.  I  had  al 
ways  longed  to  go  to  Europe.  Germany  and  Paris 
were  sparkling  ahead,  and  here  —  here  nothing  but 
the  nightmare  of  Edith  Campbell  everywhere  I  turned. 
I  drew  a  long  breath  —  there  was  no  other  course  for 
me  to  follow  —  looked  once  more  sadly  into  the  glass, 
pulled  down  my  curtain  and  began  to  get  ready  for 
bed. 

I  never  shall  forget  that  night.  I  don't  believe  I 
slept  at  all.  I  don't  know  what  time  it  was  when  I 
got  up  and,  lighting  my  candle,  sat  down  at  my  desk, 


158      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

shivering  in  my  long  white  nightgown.  I  just  sat 
and  sat;  and  gazed  and  gazed;  and  thought  and 
thought;  and  dropped,  I  remember,  little  drops  of 
melted  wax  along  my  bare  arm,  as  I  turned  over  my 
problem  in  my  mind.  "If  only  I  didn't  actually  have 
to  marry  him !  "  I  said  out  loud  and  turned  and  sank 
again  into  troubled  silence.  I  got  up  once  and  carried 
the  candle  close  to  the  cold,  glass-covered  picture  of 
my  mother  that  hung  over  my  bed.  Why  did  she 
have  to  die  so  long  ago  ?  What  would  she  say  —  she 
•who  was  to  have  been  my  best  friend  —  what  would 
she  say  if  she  could  turn  that  clear-cut  profile  around 
and  let  me  look  into  her  eyes?  I  didn't  know.  I 
hadn't  been  old  enough  to  remember  even  her  smile. 
Shouldn't  a  girl  be  glad  on  the  night  of  her  betrothal? 
Shouldn't  there  be  ardent  looks,  passionate  words, 
tender  caresses  for  her  to  live  through  again  in 
thought?  Shouldn't  she  long  for  the  sight  of  the 
man  whom  she  had  promised  to  marry?  "What 
shall  I  do,  Father?  "  I  said  out  loud.  "  What  shall 
I  do  ?  "  But  only  my  clock  answered  me  with  its 
steady,  unintelligible  tick.  No  one  could  help  me  — 
no  one  in  the  wide  world.  I  asked  them,  and  they 
couldn't.  Even  Edith  Campbell  had  said,  "  you'll 
know  " ;  but  oh,  I  didn't,  I  didn't. 

So  that  is  why,  near  morning,  I  got  up  again,  went 
to  my  desk,  opened  a  little  secret  drawer,  and  took 
out  a  picture.  The  picture  was  the  one  I  had  bought 
in  New  York  after  I  had  seen  Robert  Dwinnell  at 
the  theatre  in  the  afternoon.  Of  course  it  is  silly  and 
very  absurd  for  a  girl  of  my  years  to  treasure  a  pic 
ture  of  an  actor  in  a  secret  drawer  in  her  desk.  I  can't 
help  it.  That  picture  had  been  my  ideal  for  almost 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      159 

five  years  now.  It  wasn't  the  actor  that  I  liked  so 
much  (for  of  course  I  have  been  told  that  actors  aren't 
nice)  ;  it  wasn't  Robert  Dwinnell  himself  I  admired. 
It  was  simply  the  jolly  look  in  his  eyes  and  the  way 
he  had  —  I  remembered  it  so  well  —  of  striding  across 
the  stage,  sitting  carelessly  on  the  edge  of  a  table  and 
swinging  one  foot.  It  had  just  about  torn  the  heart 
out  of  me  to  watch  that  man  make  love.  He  had  a 
kind  of  lingering  way  with  his  hands,  and  with  his  eyes 
too,  every  time  the  heroine  was  in  his  presence.  Even 
before  he  had  proposed  to  her,  I  knew  he  adored  her 
and  afterward  —  oh,  really  I  think  Robert  Dwinnell 
must  have  loved  that  actress  off  the  stage  as  well  as  on. 
Dr.  Maynard's  hands  had  never  lingered  about  my 
shoulders  when  he  helped  me  on  with  a  coat;  he  had 
never  gazed  at  me  eloquently  across  a  crowded  room; 
and  even  after  I  had  promised  to  marry  him  he  hadn't 
crushed  me  to  him  in  any  mad  wave  of  joy.  I  gazed 
for  a  whole  half-minute  at  Robert  Dwinnell's  picture. 
I  forgot  all  my  problems  for  a  little  while  —  I  forgot 
everything  in  the  memory  of  that  man's  image.  Call 
it  absurd  if  you  want  to,  ridiculous  and  impossible, 
but  when  I  raised  my  eyes  at  last  and  rose,  clear  as  the 
day  that  was  just  breaking,  bright  as  a  new-born  vi 
sion,  I  knew  —  I  knew  I  couldn't  marry  just  everyday, 
kind  Dr.  Maynard.  It  was  just  as  if  Robert  Dwin 
nell  had  gotten  up  from  out  of  that  picture,  walked 
over  to  me,  taken  my  hand  and  said,  •"  You  must  wait 
for  some  one  like  me."  And  I  looked  up  and  knew 
that  I  must.  It  was  like  a  miracle,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  the  sudden  trembling  assurance  in  my  heart,  as 
I  found  my  way  to  my  desk  and  in  the  light  of  that 
lovely  new  morning,  drew  out  a  sheet  of  paper  and 


160      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

wrote  to  Edith  Campbell  and  told  her  I  was  ready  to 
be  friends.  For  suddenly,  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  thrilling  image  of  the  man  of  my  dreams,  I  was 
ready  to  live  with  twenty  Edith  Campbells.  Of 
course,  of  course,  I  couldn't  marry  Dr.  Maynard,  and 
with  a  little  pang  of  regret  or  something  like  it  in 
my  heart,  I  finally  wrote  him  this  note : 

"  Dear  Dr.  Maynard, 

The  refugee  has  thought  it  all  over  very  carefully  and 
has  decided  to  gather  the  pieces  of  her  house  together 
and  rebuild  on  the  same  spot,  like  San  Francisco." 

Then  I  added,  dropping  all  play  and  with  something 
I  knew  to  be  pain: 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Dr.  Maynard,  I've  tried  and  I  can't. 
But  you'll  always  be  the  very  kindest  man  I  know. 

"  LUCY  CHENERY  VARS." 

"  Now  if  you  don't  come !  "  I  said  to  the  picture,  and 
leaned  forward  and  buried  my  head  in  my  arms. 

So  that  is  how  it  happened  that  Dr.  Maynard  went 
away  to  Germany  alone  and  I  remained  at  home  to 
fight  my  battle.  It  was  a  dull,  grey  morning  that  he 
sailed,  some  three  weeks  after  that  wakeful  night  of 
^mine,  and  I  was  sitting  alone  in  my  room  at  precisely 
^eleven  o'clock  —  the  sailing  hour  —  trying  to  imagine 
Dr.  Maynard  down  there  in  New  York  on  the  big, 
white-decked  liner,  waving  good-bye  in  his  Oxford 
grey  overcoat. 

I  was  wondering  if  the  nicest,  cheer  fullest  steamer 
letter  I  could  write  had  reached  him  when  sud 
denly  Mary,  the  general-housework  girl,  pushed 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       161 

open  my  door  and  shoved  in  a  long  white  box  that  had 
come  by  express.  I  opened  it  wonderingly  and  gasped 
at  the  big  mass  of  fresh  red  roses  that  met  my  gaze. 
I  lifted  them  into  my  arms.  It  was  exactly  as  if  the 
kindest  man  I  know  had  thrown  them  to  poor  me 
upon  the  shore,  just  at  the  moment  that  the  big  boat 
was  pulling  out,  and  I  had  caught  them  safely  in  my 
arms.  There  was  a  little  limp  card  that  came  with 
them.  The  stick  had  all  come  off  the  envelope  and  it 
fell  out  on  the  bed  like  a  loose  rose  petal.  I  leaned 
and  picked  it  up.  The  ink  had  begun  to  run  a  little 
as  if  the  message  had  been  written  on  blotting-paper, 
but  I  could  make  it  out  all  right.  The  three  little 
words  brought  burning  tears  to  my  eyes. 

The  card  said :     "  For  plucky  San  Francisco." 


MANY  months  have  passed  since  Dr.  Maynard 
went  to  Europe.  There  have  been  two  crops 
of  chestnuts  for  me  to  gather  alone  in  October  since 
he  sailed  away  —  two  dull,  grey,  unimportant  Christ 
mas  nights  since  my  ridiculous  happiest  one.  Edith 
has  been  in  command  of  my  father's  house  for  so  long 
now  that  all  the  difficult  adjustments  have  been  made, 
the  machinery  is  running  without  an  audible  squeak, 
and  the  house  itself  has  developed  into  a  plant  as  im 
posing  and  prosperous  as  a  modern  factory.  As  I 
write  to-day  I  am  sitting  in  my  elaborate  new  bed 
room,  built  on  over  the  new  porte-cochere  —  my  old 
room  was  cut  up  into  two  baths  and  a  shower  —  and 
am  surrounded  with  rose  cretonne  hangings,  lacy 
curtains,  and  delicately  shaded  electric  lights. 

Even  the  people  in  my  life  have  changed  so  radi 
cally  that  I  hardly  recognise  them  as  the  ones  that  I 
once  worked  and  cared  for.  Ruth  has  grown  into 
a  charming  young  lady;  the  twins  have  graduated 
from  college  and  are  earning  their  own  way  —  Mal 
colm  in  New  York  and  Oliver  in  a  lumber  camp  out 
West;  Tom  is  middle-aged;  Elise,  whom  I  visited 
last  winter,  is  becoming  a  little  stout  and  her  hair  is 
sprinkled  through  with  grey ;  Alec  has  buried  his  per 
sonality  in  Edith;  nothing  is  as  it  was.  Even  Hilton 
is  different.  The  old  Brooks  Hotel  on  Main  Street, 
.where  George  Washington  once  stopped  for  over 

162 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      163 

night,  has  been  torn  down;  there's  a  new  postoffice, 
a  new  City  Hall;  there's  a  double-tracked  electric-car- 
line  to  Boston.  There  are  two  taxicabs  in  the  town 
now  and  a  new  theatre.  Dr.  Maynard's  house  looks 
like  a  tomb.  The  wisteria  vine  is  the  only  live  thing 
about  it.  Like  hair  it  keeps  on  growing  after  death 
—  winding,  coiling,  across  the  doors  and  window- 
panes  with  no  hand  to  push  it  back.  A  young  man 
just  graduated  from  medical  school  has  taken  Dr. 
Maynard's  practice;  and  as  for  kind,  gentle  Dr. 
Maynard  himself  I  begin  to  doubt  if  such  a  person 
ever  existed.  When  he  went  away  he  sold  his  auto 
mobile  to  Jake  Pickens,  a  plumber  down  on  Blondell 
Street,  and  to-day  as  I  glided  grandly  by  in  Edith's 
limousine  I  observed  Mr.  Pickens  wheezing  up  Main 
Street,  chugging  along  with  awful  difficulty.  The 
poor  old  machine  looked  about  ready  for  the  junk 
heap.  A  great  wave  of  pity  for  it  swept  over  me 
that  brought  tears  to  my  eyes.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could 
have  kept  right  straight  on  with  my  old  story.  But 
I  suppose  everything  has  got  to  change,  houses  and 
towns  and  automobiles,  as  well  as  people  and  their 
histories. 

I  can  hardly  believe  it  was  only  two  years  ago  that 
I  used  to  climb  into  the  cupola  and  lock  myself  away 
from  everything  below.  There  is  no  cupola  now. 
It  was  cut  off,  like  an  offending  wart.  I  was  sur 
prised  to  discover  what  a  perfectly  enormous  thing 
it  was  as  it  stood  upon  the  lawn  waiting  to  be  carried 
off.  It  reminded  me  of  a  horse  that  has  fallen  down 
on  the  pavement  —  symmetrical  enough  in  its  proper 
position,  but  dreadfully  awkward  and  absolutely 
colossal  sprawling  about  on  the  ground.  Why,  it 


164      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

took  four  horses  to  drag  it  up  to  old  Silas  Morton's. 
Silas  Morton  is  a  farmer  up  near  Sag  Hill  and  he 
bought  my  sacred  temple  for  fifteen  dollars.  He  uses 
it  for  a  hen-house!  It  seemed  to  me  like  sacrilege, 
but  the  hens  layed  eggs  in  it,  Mr.  Morton  said,  as 
if  they  were  possessed.  The  upper  part  of  the  win 
dow-panes  in  the  cupola  are  made  of  yellow  stained- 
glass,  and  he  thinks  —  Silas  Morton  is  kind  of  an 
inventor  —  that  the  hens  have  an  idea  it's  sunshine 
and  that  spring  is  coming.  I  tell  him  the  cupola  is 
inspired.  I  saw  a  picture  once  of  a  common  little 
farm-house  where  Mrs.  Eddy  wrote  her  book,  "  Sci 
ence  and  Health."  If  my  book  were  to  be  published, 
and  some  photographer  took  a  picture  of  the  house 
in  which  I  wrote  it,  I  guess  that  old  hen-coop  would 
win  the  prize  for  an  odd  spot  in  which  to  have  an 
inspiration. 

With  the  cupola  gone  and  the  French  roof  entirely 
obliterated,  the  iron  fence  and  the  iron  fountain  sold 
to  a  junk  man,  a  spreading  porte-cochere  at  one  side 
of  the  house,  a  billiard-room  at  the  other,  low 
verandas  like  a  wide  brim  to  a  hat  surrounding  the 
entire  structure,  and  everything  painted  a  bright  yel 
low  trimmed  with  green,  you  never  in  this  world 
would  recognise  240  Main  Street,  once  brown  and 
square  and  ugly.  There's  a  new  stable  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  back  of  the  house;  there  are  lawns  where  the 
vegetable  garden  used  to  be;  the  old  apple  orchard  is 
now  a  sunken  garden  with  a  pool  in  the  centre.  As  I 
write  I  can  hear  the  trickle  of  a  stream  of  water  that 
spouts  out  of  the  little  artificial  pond,  and  catch  the 
prosperous  sound  of  the  hum  of  a  lawn-mower  run 
by  a  motor.  The  name  that  Edith  has  chosen  to  give 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       16$ 

to  all  this  grandeur  is  "  The  Homestead."  It  is  en 
graved  at  the  head  of  every  sheet  of  note-paper  in 
the  establishment.  The  Homestead!  You  might  as 
well  call  Windsor  Castle  the  "  Bide  a  Wee  "  or  the 
"  Dewdrop  Inn  "  as  this  glaring,  officious,  stone-gated 
palace  anything  that  suggests  plainness  and  sweet 
homely  comfort.  The  last  time  I  wrote  to  Juliet  I 
drew  a  big  black  ink  line  through  the  words  "  The 
Homestead  "  and  wrote  above  "  The  Waldorf-Ritz- 
Plaza." 

I've  tried  not  to  interfere  with  the  changes  Edith 
has  made.  I  will  confess  I  appealed  to  Alec  about 
the  apple  orchard.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  It  seemed 
a  shame  to  me,  to  go  among  that  little  company  of 
old  friends  —  twenty  or  thirty  bent  and  bowing  ap 
ple-trees  grown  up  now  side  by  side,  touching 
branches  and  blooming  together  beautifully  every 
spring  just  as  if  they  were  not  far  too  old  to  bear 
anything  to  be  called  a  harvest.  I  told  Alec  that  I 
thought  an  apple  orchard  and  a  stone  wall  with 
poison  ivy  climbing  over  it  was  the  loveliest  garden 
for  a  New  England  homestead  that  any  one  could  lay 
out.  Alec  must  have  told  Edith,  for  the  next  day  she 
asked  me,  in  her  laughing  way,  if  I  wouldn't  like 
chickens  scratching  in  the  front  yard,  and  yellow 
pumpkins  piled  on  the  back  porch.  New  England 
homesteads  even  managed,  she  added,  to  keep  pigs  near 
enough  the  house  so  that  the  family  could  breathe  the 
healthy  odour  in  the  parlour.  "  Dear  child."  she  said, 
"  of  course  we  can't  let  the  place  be  run  over  with  poi 
son  ivy !  How  funny  you  are !  "  And  the  apple-trees 
came  down.  There  are  formal  paths  in  the  apple 
orchard  now,  the  imported  shrubs  are  tagged  with 


166 

labels,  the  pond  is  lined  with  cement.  I  simply  have 
to  escape  to  the  woods,  every  once  in  a  while,  to  make 
sure  that  nature  is  still  having  her  way  somewhere 
in  the  world. 

You  must  think  from  this  description  that  Edith 
Campbell  is  something  of  an  heiress.  Now  that  word 
to  me  has  a  kind  of  aristocratic  sound,  and  so  I  prefer 
to  say  in  regard  to  the  Campbells,  that  they  have  sim 
ply  oodles  and  oodles  of  money.  I  hate  the  word 
"oodles,"  but  it  just  fits  Edith  Campbell.  It  de 
scribes  her  worldly  possessions  to  a  T.  Her  father, 
old  Dave  Campbell,  is  rolling  up  a  fortune  that  is  at 
tracting  attention.  Why,  the  cost  of  all  the  improve 
ments  on  old  "  two-forty  "  here  didn't  make  a  dent  in 
his  bank  account  they  say.  Alec  tells  me  that  if  it 
wasn't  for  Mr.  Campbell,  Father's  woollen  business 
would  not  have  endured  another  twelve  months.  Mr. 
Campbell  has  gone  into  the  business  heart  and  soul, 
and  I  don't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry. 
Father  never  had  any  use  at  all  for  Mr.  Campbell. 
He  used  to  call  him  "  scurvy."  I  remember  the  word 
because  as  a  child  I  thought  it  a  funny  adjective  to 
apply  to  a  man  who  had  a  perfectly  flawless  com 
plexion.  I  had  to  muster  up  all  the  control  I  had 
when  I  first  saw  David  Campbell's  big,  fat,  volumi 
nous  body  occupying  Father's  revolving  desk-chair 
in  the  private  office  down  at  the  factory.  I  didn't 
think  Father  would  like  it.  But  Alec  says  that 
Father  would  much  prefer  to  have  Mr.  Campbell 
elected  as  a  president  of  the  Vars  &  Company 
Woollen  Mills  than  that  any  concern  bearing  his, 
Father's,  name  should  fail  to  pay  its  creditors  a  hun 
dred  cents  on  the  dollar.  Perhaps  he  would;  I  don't 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      167 

know  much  about  business.     Anyhow  I  try  to  be  nice 
to  Mr.  Campbell. 

I  try  to  be  nice  to  Edith,  too.  It  isn't  easy.  I 
don't  like  her,  and  I  don't  like  her  methods,  but  I 
don't  tell  her  so.  We  don't  quarrel,  although  we 
mix  about  like  oil  and  water.  Of  course  Edith  has 
her  good  points.  For  instance  she  is  the  most  gen 
erous  person  I  ever  knew,  and  she's  good-nature  it 
self.  She'll  take  an  insult  from  you,  pay  you  back  in 
your  own  coin  and  then  exclaim :  "  Oh,  come  on, 
let's  not  fight.  There's  a  dear!  Let's  go  to  the 
matinee  this  afternoon."  She  has  a  lot  of  practical 
ability  too.  She's  a  born  manager,  and  as  systematic 
as  a  machine.  The  trouble  with  Edith  is  her  ambi 
tion.  She  wants  to  stand  at  the  head  of  all  society 
in  the  world,  and  to  get  there  she  is  ready  to  work 
till  she  drops.  Just  as  soon  as  she  struggles  up  on 
top  of  one  heap  of  people  she  begins  on  another, 
and  so  on.  I  don't  know  where  she'll  stop.  Juliet 
Adams'  mother  told  me  that  she  could  remember 
when  people  in  Hilton  didn't  like  to  invite  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  to  their  houses.  That  was  years  ago,  of  course, 
for  now  they  thank  their  lucky  stars  if  they  are  in 
vited  to  hers.  There  used  to  be,  and  are  still,  lots 
of  beautiful  country  places  sprinkled  around  Hilton. 
These  summer  people  never  mingled  very  much  with 
Hiltonites,  but  as  soon  as  Edith  was  able  to  walk  she 
was  bound  to  mingle  with  them.  Well,  she  has  re 
alised  that  ambition.  The  summer  colony,  which  is 
the  set  that  gives  social  distinction  to  Hilton,  includes 
Edith  in  all  of  its  big  functions  now,  in  spite  of  the 
damning  fact  that  she  is  a  "  native  "  and  an  "  all-the- 
year-round." 


168      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Edith's  social  activities  are  simply  marvellous  to 
me.  She  has  her  plan  of  campaign  —  the  various 
combinations  of  people  to  be  invited  to  dinner-parties, 
bridges,  or  small  teas,  all  mapped  out  and  written 
down  in  a  book  at  the  beginning  of  each  season./ 
Then  she  manages  to  inveigle,  by  means  of  big  fat 
cheques,  I  imagine,  lions  —  pianists,  and  authors,  and 
lecturers,  whom  everybody  wants  to  see  and  hear  — 
to  act  as  her  guest  of  honour.  So  her  parties  are 
always  rather  popular,  you  see.  Oh,  Edith  is  clever. 
She  may  not  understand  my  nature  very  well,  but  to 
the  likes  and  dislikes,  pet  ambitions  and  pleasures  of 
human-nature  generally  she  can  cater  to  the  queen's 
taste. 

She  has  fairly  hypnotised  Ruth.  My  little  sister 
thinks  there  is  no  one  like  her.  As  soon  as  Edith 
married  Alec,  she  took  complete  possession  of  Ruth, 
provided  her  with  a  lot  of  lovely  clothes  and  sent  her 
off,  for  the  first  winter,  to  a  fashionable  boarding- 
school  in  New  York.  After  eight  dazzling  months 
of  that  sort  of  life  she  ordained  that  Ruth  should  re 
turn  to  Hilton  and  "  come  out."  Last  fall  she  gave  her 
a  reception  that  fairly  thrilled  the  town.  Edith's 
word  is  sacred  law  to  Ruth;  Edith's  opinion  the  ulti 
matum  to  any  doubt  on  any  question  whatsoever.  / 
am  a  mere  speck  on  Ruth's  outlook  on  life;  my  ideas 
don't  count ;  I  am  so  old-fashioned  and  so  easily 
shocked;  I  don't  know  what  style  is;  I  don't  pos 
sess  a  scrap  of  what  Edith  calls  social-sense.  Per 
haps  as  much  as  anything  else  it  is  Edith's  complete 
possession  of  Ruth  that  hurts  me.  It  seems  a  shame 
that  she  couldn't  have  been  satisfied  with  Alec.  I 
don't  see  why  she  had  to  rob  me  of  my  only  sister 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      169 

too.  I  don't  cry  about  it  (I  won't  let  myself)  but 
I  think  I've  missed  my  own  mother  more  since  I  was 
twenty  than  before  I  was  ten.  It  may  be  a  comfort 
to  mothers  whose  little  children  have  grown  out  of 
the  helpless  age  to  know  this  from  a  grown-up  daugh 
ter. 

I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you  about  my  brother 
Alec.     I  wonder  sometimes  what  has  become  of  him. 
I  see  him,  I  hear  him  speak,  I  reply,  but  I  might  as 
well  be  gazing  at  his  picture  and  talking  with  him 
over  the  long  distance  'phone.     I  have  no  idea  what 
he  thinks  about  this  new  life  of  ours.     He  doesn't 
confide   in  me   any  more;   we   are   almost   strangers 
now.     Of  course  I  should  expect  him  to  be  loyal  to 
his    wife  —  he's    such    a    thoughtful    man    that    he 
wouldn't  hurt  Edith's  feelings  for  anything  —  but  I 
wonder  and  wonder  where  all  his  old  qualities  have 
gone.     Alec  used  to  be  so  firm  and  determined,  so 
frugal    and    economical.     Are    those    qualities    still 
smouldering  away  down  deep  in  him  somewhere,  or 
when  Edith  took  possession  of  his  house,  did  she  take 
possession  of  his  soul  too,  and  sweep  out  everything 
she  didn't  like,  just  as  she  cut  off  the  cupola  and  sold 
the  iron  fence?     Some  men  let  women  do  that  with 
them,  especially  if  it's  a  woman  they've  wanted  ter 
ribly  for  a  dozen  years,  and  never  thought  themselves 
good  enough  for  her  to  accept.     Why,  Alec  simply 
wants  to  please  Edith  and  her  family  in  every  human 
way  that  he  can.     I  have  an  idea  that  he  feels  so 
grateful    to    Edith    for    accepting   him,    and    to    Mr. 
Campbell  for  saving  the  business,  that  he  doesn't  dare 
disagree  with  a  single  solitary  thing  the   Campbells 
ever  do  or  think  or  suggest.     I  believe  my  brother 


170 

is  so  overcome  by  living  in  such  continual  grandeur, 
sleeping  in  a  bed  with  gold  trimmings  —  Napoleonic, 
Edith  says  —  bathing  in  a  bathroom  with  Florentine 
tiles,  entertaining  all  the  big  bugs  within  a  hundred 
miles,  and  travelling  to  the  office  every  morning  in 
a  limousine,  that  he  feels  that  he  must  have  been  a 
mere  worm  when  Edith  picked  him  up.  /  think  he's 
more  of  a  worm  now!  Anyhow  he  doesn't  show  any 
backbone. 

Sometimes  at  the  table  I  glance  at  him  across  the 
flowers,  and  once  in  a  long,  long  while  there's  a  look 
in  his  eyes  when  they  meet  mine  that  I  recognise  as 
my  dear  brother's.  Usually  it's  when  Ruth  and 
Edith  are  discussing  society;  and  after  one  of  these 
clandestine  meetings  of  Alec's  and  mine  across  the 
flowers,  I  always  come  up  here  to  my  room  wonder 
fully  comforted,  with  a  feeling  that  I  am  not  abso 
lutely  deserted,  after  all. 

Perhaps  that  sounds  as  if  I  were  unhappy.  Please 
do  not  think  so,  because  I'm  not.  I'm  bound  not  to 
be.  I  should  be  ashamed  of  myself,  if  just  because 
I  happened  to  be  ousted  from  my  job  and  didn't 
fancy  my  successor,  I  simply  "  went  out  into  the  back 
yard  and  ate  worms."  That  isn't  what  I'm  doing 
at  all.  Once  Alec  was  married  and  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  couldn't  run  away  to  New  York  and 
earn  my  way,  or  hire  a  house  of  my  own  and  live 
by  myself,  I  buckled  down  and  did  my  level  best  to 
adjust  my  likes  and  habits  to  the  conditions  of  Edith's 
reign.  One  can  get  used  to  anything,  I  believe.  I 
accepted  Edith  as  a  person  ought  to  accept  any  cir 
cumstance  that  can't  be  avoided.  What  if  her  am 
bitions  do  seem  to  me  unworthy?  What  if  she  has 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      171 

crowded  me  out  of  my  little  niche?  What  if  the  cus 
toms  and  the  things  I  liked  are  desecrated  before  my 
very  eyes?  All  this  will  not  cripple  me,  as  a  chance 
railroad  accident  might.  I'm  not  enduring  physical 
torture.  I  can  still  see,  and  hear,  and  use  my  two 
unhampered  feet  for  long  sweet  walks  in  the  coun 
try.  What  if,  indeed,  Edith  has  robbed  me  of  Alec, 
and  Ruth  too?  She  cannot  rob  me  of  the  joys  of 
out-of-doors,  the  messages  to  me  in  books,  the  thrill 
I  feel  at  the  sound  of  distant  music. 

I  can  generally  find  several  hours  every  day 
when  I  am  able  to  steal  away  somewhere  by  myself 
with  a  book.  I  never  had  much  time  to  read  when 
I  was  younger  and  no  one  to  suggest  and  guide  as  I 
grew  up.  I  had  never  read  Vanity  Fair  even,  nor 
Silas  Marner,  nor  David  Copper-field.  So  after  Alec 
was  married,  I  made  it  my  task  to  catch  up  with 
other  girls  of  my  age.  I  have  my  nose  buried  inside 
a  novel  most  all  of  the  time  now.  At  first  I  used 
to  drive  myself  to  it,  allot  myself  a  certain  number 
of  chapters  to  read  each  day  and  accomplish  it  as  if 
it  were  a  stint.  Now  I  simply  devour  a  book  in 
great  hungry  bites  and  wish  there  were  more  when 
I  am  finished.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  I 
hadn't  learned  to  love  to  read.  I  wonder  if  it  would 
open  up  other  sources  of  joy  if  I  should  learn  to  ap 
preciate  symphony  or  Italian  Art,  Perhaps  Beethoven 
and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  mere  names  to  me  now,  would 
become  as  individual  and  inspire  me  with  their  mes 
sages  as  deeply  as  dear  old  Stevenson,  whom  I  couldn't 
live  without. 

I  think  you  must  have  surmised  by  this  time  that 
I  haven't  proved  a  great  belle  in  society.  You're  ex- 


172      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

actly  right.  In  the  first  place  I  hate  bridge!  When 
ever  I  attempt  to  play,  I  get  hot  all  over,  and  I  wish 
I  could  unhook  my  tight  collar  and  roll  up  my  prickly 
sleeves.  When  it  comes  my  turn  to  play,  and  I  find 
myself  desperately  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  to  trump 
or  not  —  my  partner  looking  daggers  at  me  across 
the  table  and  everybody  waiting  in  dead  silence  — 
I  simply  give  up  all  responsibility  in  the  matter,  re 
peat  to  myself:  "  Eenie,  meenie,  mynie  moe,  Catch 
a  nigger  by  the  toe,"  etc.,  and  fling  down  the  card 
that's  "  it,"  in  utter  abandon.  Of  course,  that  isn't 
good  bridge,  and  Edith  says  I'll  never  make  a  player. 
She  says  I  don't  possess  any  more  card-sense  than 
social-sense.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  sense  I  do  pos 
sess  anyhow!  It  was  a  big  consolation  when  I 
learned  that  the  emptiest-headed  women  often  make 
the  best  card  players,  simply  because  no  superfluous 
ideas  are  at  work  in  their  brains  to  interrupt  the 
train  of  concentrated  card  thought. 

I'm  not  much  more  successful  in  conversation  than 
I  am  in  bridge.  I  seem  to  be  always  on  the  outside 
of  women's  intimacies  somehow.  Edith's  set  know 
one  another  so  confidentially  —  keep  tabs  on  the 
gowns,  the  hats,  the  jewellery,  the  number  of  servants 
each  one  has,  and  guess  at  one  another's  incomes. 
And  then  they  use  such  a  lot  of  mysterious  signs! 
Sometimes  raised  eyebrows,  a  little  nod  toward  a 
person's  back,  very  tightly  pursed  lips,  somebody  ab 
ruptly  twirling  her  two  thumbs,  will  set  off  a  whole 
roomful  into  peals  of  laughter,  while  I  simply  sit 
dazed  and  blank.  It's  just  so  with  Ruth's  younger 
crowd  too.  They're  always  giggling  or  making  un 
intelligible  remarks.  You  see  I'm  a  kind  of  an  in- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       173 

between  age,  not  old  enough  for  Edith's  set,  nor 
young  enough  for  Ruth's.  The  girls  I  used  to  know 
in  the  high  school  have  not  proved  to  be  of  the  fash 
ionable  society  here  in  Hilton,  and  Edith  won't  let 
me  have  them  at  the  house.  I've  drifted  away  from 
most  of  them,  except  Juliet  Adams,  who  is  doing  set 
tlement  work  in  New  York,  and  I  can't  find  any  one 
to  take  their  place. 

I've  come  to  the  sad  conclusion  that  I'm  not  pop 
ular  with  men  either.  At  the  little  dances  given  here 
in  Hilton  occasionally,  I'm  not  a  wall-flower,  possibly 
because  I'm  Edith  Vars'  sister-in-law,  but  I'm  never 
"rushed."  I  can't  be  very  brilliant  in  conversation 
at  a  dance  when  I'm  anxiously  watching  for  some 
kind,  charitable  soul  to  deliver  my  partner  from  the 
fear  of  two  numbers  in  succession  with  me.  And  I 
have  a  sneaking  conviction  that  I  don't  dance  very 
well.  You  see  all  Ruth's  set  "  Boston  "  to  a  waltz 
and  two-step,  and  I  don't  know  how.  When  a  man 
is  good  enough  to  ask  me  to  dance  it  seems  too  bad 
to  make  him  exercise  until  he  perspires.  No  one 
knows  that  I  don't  enjoy  dances  very  much.  It  looks 
as  if  I  were  having  a  good  time,  I  suppose,  but  down 
in  my  heart  I'm  worried  and  afraid. 

At  first  I  used  to  be  eagerly  on  the  lookout  for  my 
ideal  —  for  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  face  that  resem 
bled  the  picture  locked  away  in  my  secret  desk- 
drawer.  But  such  a  quest  is  mere  nonsense.  I  go  to 
Boston  to  shop  with  Edith  quite  often;  but  never,  in 
all  the  trains,  railroad  stations,  restaurants,  or  ele 
vators  in  law-office  buildings  (where  one  runs  across 
so  many  good-looking  men)  have  I  seen  even  once 
the  face  of  my  desire.  Why,  I  searched  for  that 


174      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

face  throughout  Oliver's  and  Malcolm's  entire  class 
when  they  graduated  from  college;  I  look  for  it 
among  the  new  young  men  that  come  to  call  on  Ruth, 
but  I  can't  find  it.  Yet  if  I  ever  do  marry,  the  man 
must  be  born  by  this  time,  I  suppose.  Sometimes,  es 
pecially  when  I  listen  to  music,  I  wonder  where  he 
is,  in  just  what  city,  what  house,  what  room  he  is 
sitting  at  that  particular  moment.  I  smile  to  think 
how  unconscious  he  is  of  me,  who  some  day  will  fill 
his  life  completely,  and  how  surprised  he'd  be  if  he 
knew  that  I  was  loving  him  even  now. 

I  wonder  what  he's  doing  this  very  minute  — 
three  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  afternoon.  Perhaps 
he's  playing  golf  in  a  Norfolk  Scotch  tweed;  per 
haps  he's  oiling  an  engine  in  blue  overalls;  perhaps 
he's  at  the  point  of  death  with  typhoid  fever  and 
is  lying  in  bed  with  a  thermometer  in  his  mouth, 
and  I  am  going  to  lose  him!  Oh,  I  hope  he  will  be 
spared!  I'll  love  him,  overalls  and  all,  and  be  proud 
too,  to  stand  at  the  back-door  and  wave  my  apron 
when  his  train  goes  by,  just  as  they  do  in  magazine 
stories.  I  don't  believe,  after  all,  I'm  a  bit  ambitious 
when  it  comes  to  marrying. 

I  suppose  every  reader  of  this  resume  chapter  of 
mine  is  simply  skipping  paragraphs  by  the  dozen  in 
the  fond  hope  that  he'll  run  across  some  exciting  ref 
erence  to  Dr.  Maynard.  People  are  always  so  sus 
picious  of  an  old  love-affair.  Let  me  relieve  your 
mind.  As  much  as  you  may  be  disappointed,  I  must 
announce  that  I  am  not  reserving  any  sweet  senti 
mental  morsel,  for  a  climactic  finale.  Far  from  it. 
I  haven't  got  it  to  reserve.  I  only  wish  I  had.  A 
sweet  memory  is  such  a  comforting  possession,  a 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       175 

thrilling  romance  of  the  past  such  a  reassurance. 
But  it  is  very  evident  that  Dr.  Maynard  has  no  inten 
tion  of  providing  me  with  sweet  memories  or  thrilling 
romances.  All  the  balm  and  comfort  that  his  pro 
posal  may  have  given  me  in  the  beginning  he  has  de 
stroyed  by  being  hopelessly  commonplace  ever  since. 
I  wish  you  could  read  his  letters!  Impersonal? 
Why,  they  might  easily  be  addressed  to  a  maiden 
aunt.  Never  once  has  he  referred  to  that  starry 
night,  when  he  asked  me  to  go  to  Germany  with  him ; 
never  intimated  that  he  wished  that  I  were  there  to 
see  the  castles  on  the  Rhine,  or  hear  the  music  in  the 
gardens  above  Heidelberg;  never  asked,  as  any 
normal  man  would  do,  if  I  had  changed  my  mind. 
Not  that  I  have  in  the  least.  I  haven't !  Only  it 
seems  to  me  almost  impolite  not  as  much  as  to  in 
quire. 

Dr.  William  Ford  Maynard  is  becoming  quite  well 
known  here  in  America.  There  have  been  several  ar 
ticles  already  in  the  magazines  about  him  and  the  re 
markable  results  of  his  scientific  research.  I  ought 
to  be  flattered  to  receive  envelopes  addressed  'to  me 
from  him  at  all,  I  suppose.  We  write  about  once 
a  month.  His  letters  are  full  of  descriptions  of  pen 
sions,  and  cafes,  and  queer  people  at  his  boarding- 
place.  I  know  some  of  his  guinea-pigs  by  name  — 
the  ones  who  have  the  typhoid,  the  scarlet-fever,  and 
the  spinal  meningitis;  the  convalescents,  the  fatalities, 
and  the  triumphant  recoveries  are  reported  to  me 
monthly.  But  as  honoured  as  I  ought  to  feel,  I  sup 
pose,  to  share  the  results  of  this  man's  famous  work, 
the  truth  is  I  don't  enjoy  his  letters  one  bit!  I  am 
glad  I  was  foresighted  enough  not  to  marry  such  a 


176      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

passionless  man.  I  never  would  have  been  satisfied. 
I  see  it  clearly  now. 

My  letters  to  him  are  regular  works  of  art.  I'm 
bound  not  to  let  him  pity  me,  at  any  rate,  and  if  he 
can  write  cheerful  and  enthusiastic  descriptions  so 
can  I.  To  Dr.  Maynard  I  am  simply  delighted  over 
our  burst  into  prosperity  and  social  splendour. 
Edith's  improvements  on  the  house  I  rave  over.  I 
describe  bridge  parties,  teas  and  dances  as  if  I  glo 
ried  in  them.  I  refer  to  various  men  —  mostly 
Ruth's  suitors,  I  must  confess  —  frequently  and  with 
familiarity.  I  am  simply  "  Living,"  with  a  big  cap 
ital  L,  in  my  letters  to  Dr.  Maynard,  and  my  stub 
pen  crosses  its  T's  and  ends  its  sentences  with  great 
broad,  militant  dashes  that  are  bold  with  triumph. 

Once  only  did  Dr.  Maynard  condescend  to  refer 
to  the  past,  and  that  was  in  a  little  insignificant  post- 
cript  at  the  end  of  a  long  humorous  description  of  a 
German  family  that  he  saw  in  a  cafe.  This  is  what 
he  wrote,  all  cramped  up  in  a  little  bit  of  space,  after 
he  had  signed  his  name: 

"  How  is  San  Francisco  progressing  in  her  reconstruc 
tion?  Does  she  need  any  outside  help  in  building  up 
her  beautiful  city?  Please  let  me  know  when  she 
does!" 

I  tell  you  I  wrote  him  the  gayest,  most  flippant  lit 
tle  note  I  could  compose  —  all  about  how  busy  I  was 
with  engagements,  etc.,  etc. ;  and  then  after  I  had 
signed  my  name,  along  the  margin  of  the  paper  I 
said: 

"  About    San    Francisco  —  she    is    progressing    won- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       177 

derfully,  she  doesn't  need  any  help  from  any  one,  un 
less  possibly  lead  weights  to  keep  her  from  soaring. 
The  earthquake  did  her  good.  She's  becoming  very 
modernised  and  when  you  see  her  next  I  doubt  if 
you  recognise  her  on  account  of  all  the  changes.  Is 
Lizzie  better?  Or  was  it  Nibbles  who  had  the 
typhoid?" 

If  Dr.  Maynard  couldn't  afford  a  fresh  sheet  of 
paper,  go  upstairs  and  shut  himself  in  his  room,  and 
ask  me  seriously  and  quietly  if  I  were  unhappy  or 
lonely,  I  would  starve  first  before  I'd  ask  bread  of 
him. 

I  have  it  all  planned  just  how  I  shall  treat  Dr. 
Maynard  when  he  comes  home  —  very  distantly  and 
as  if  so  much  society  had  made  me  a  little  blase. 
When  his  name  is  sent  up  I  shall  keep  him  waiting  in 
the  little  gold  reception-room  for  about  five  minutes, 
and  then  glide  into  his  presence,  in  a  long  clinging 
crepe-de-chine  dress.  After  I  have  shaken  hands 
and  said,  "  How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  you  with  us 
again,"  I'll  ring  for  tea,  then  go  back  and  sit  down  in 
the  carved  Italian  armchair  with  the  high  back,  dan 
gle  the  ivory  paper-cutter  in  one  hand  the  way  Ruth 
does,  and  inquire  what  sort  of  a  passage  he  has  had. 

If  he  should  come  this  year  I've  just  the  gown  to 
wear.  It's  black,  with  a  gold  cord  around  the  waist. ' 
I  look  -about  twenty-nine  in  it,  and  awfully  sophisti 
cated 


CHAPTER  XIV, 

RUTH'S  coming-out  party  cost  over  two  thou 
sand  dollars,  they  say.  Her  dress  alone  was 
made  by  a  dressmaker  in  Boston  who  won't  "  touch 
a  thing"  under  a  hundred  and  fifty;  and  Edith's  — 
shimmering  blue,  draped  with  chiffon  covered  with 
green  spangles,  and  here  and  there  a  crimson  one  (it 
looked  just  like  the  shining  sides  of  a  little  wet  brook- 
trout)  —  simply  spelled  money. 

I  tell  you  the  whole  party  lived  up  to  the  gorgeous- 
ness  of  Edith's  gown  too.  There  were  orchids 
frozen  in  ice,  for  a  punch  bowl,  in  the  dining-room  j 
Killarney  roses  by  the  dozens  in  the  reception-room; 
chrysanthemums  in  big  round  red  bunches  in  the  living- 
room;  and  the  stairway  was  wound  with  smilax  and 
asparagras  fern,  with  real  birch  trees  —  silvery  bark 
and  all  —  at  intervals  of  four  or  five  feet.  There 
were  extra  electric  lights,  extra  maids,  extra  every 
thing;  and  on  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  October,  there  arrived  a  whole  squad  of 
caterers  from  Boston  with  cases  large  as  trunks  filled 
with  pattie  shells,  a  thousand  tiny  brown  pyramids  of 
potato  croquettes,  tanksful  of  mushrooms,  crab  meat, 
and  sweet-breads,  cratesful  of  Malaga  grapes  and  ac 
tual  strawberries  imported  from  somewhere  which  they 
dipped  in  white  fondant  and  then  set  away  to  cool  in 
little  frilled  paper  holders,  all  over  the  butler's  pantry. 

It  took  Edith  and  Ruth  two  solid  weeks  of  dis 
cussion  and  consultation  to  complete  the  invitation 

178 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      179 

list.  You  see  Edith  was  careful  to  give  the  party 
early  in  the  fall  before  the  summer  colony  had  gone 
back  home  to  its  winter  quarters.  After  the  recep 
tion  itself  there  was  to  be  a  small  dance,  and  the  elect 
were  invited  to  remain.  It  was  a  source  of  satisfac 
tion  to  Edith  that  only  a  dozen  native  Hilton  men 
were  invited  to  the  dance,  and  but  eight  girls.  Of 
course  such  partiality  and  ruthless  slight  and  scorn 
of  the  people  of  her  own  native  city  caused  a  good 
deal  of  feeling  in  Hilton,  but  I  observed  that  most 
every  one  who  was  invited  to  the  reception  came,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  they  had  been  omitted  from  the 
dance  to  follow.  Every  living  woman  in  Hilton 
was  anxious,  I  suppose,  to  prove  by  her  presence  that 
she  had  the  distinction  of  a  portion  of  the  engraved 
invitation  at  least. 

I  remember  one  name  was  under  discussion  for  a 
week  —  a  Mrs.  Hugh  Fullerton  who  was  simply 
crazy  "  to  get  into  things,"  Edith  said  —  an  officious, 
showy  little  bride  from  the  West,  she  explained,  who 
had  married  that  young  Yale  graduate,  Hugh  Ful 
lerton.  Hugh  Fullerton  had  been  invited  everywhere 
before  he  was  married.  He  had  been  in  Hilton  only 
three  years,  but  he  had  taken  well.  New  young  men 
usually  do  take  well  in  Hilton.  It's  the  women  and 
the  girls  who  have  to  climb  and  scramble.  Mr.  Ful 
lerton  was  from  Milwaukee,  Wisconsin,  and  was 
learning  the  boiler  business  in  the  Hilton  Boiler 
Works.  He  was  a  fine,  tall,  athletic,  bronzed  sort 
of  fellow;  Edith  used  to  invite  him  to  The  Home 
stead  very  often;  he'd  ridden  every  one  of  her  hunt 
ers;  he  was  supposed  to  be  one  of  her  favourites. 
Then  he  married,  and  Edith's  invitations  came  to  an 


i8o      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

abrupt  end.  I  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Fullerton,  but  I 
felt  sorry  for  her. 

"  She  has  been  married  only  since  June,"  I  said  to 
Edith ;  "  why  not  invite  the  poor  thing  to  the  dance  ? 
What  harm  would  it  do?  She  may  be  a  little  home 
sick  way  on  here  in  the  East,  and  it  might  cheer  her 
up  a  lot  to  have  a  little  distinction  if  she's  so  awfully 
anxious  for  it." 

"  Bobbie,  dear  child,  I'm  not  running  an  institu 
tion,  for  homesick  girls,"  replied  Edith.  "  I  know 
what  I'm  about.  I  rather  liked  the  girl  at  first,  I  con 
fess.  She's  got  a  lot  of  style,  but  she  simply  isn't 
being  taken  up  —  that's  all.  The  Ogdens  live  in  St. 
Louis  in  the  winter  and  this  Mrs.  Fullerton  lived  there 
before  she  was  married.  The  Ogdens  know  every 
body  in  St.  Louis  of  any  importance,  but  they  never 
even  heard  of  Mrs.  Fullerton.  I'm  not  going  to  try 
to  float  a  girl  in  society,  whom  I  know  nothing  about. 
You  may  be  sure  of  that." 

"  I  should  think  your  position  would  be  secure 
enough  after  a  while,  for  you  to  show  a  little  inde 
pendence,"  I  murmured. 

"  Independence !  Why,  child,  I'm  inviting  her  to 
the  reception,  as  it  is.  Anyhow  what  can  you  know 
about  it?  I'll  settle  the  invitations,  dearie."  That 
was  an  example  of  the  manner  with  which  my  ideas 
were  usually  treated. 

There  \vas  a  house-party  planned  at  The  Home 
stead  in  addition  to  the  tea  and  dance.  Edith  al 
ways  does  a  thing  up  good  and  brown.  She  wrote 
to  about  a  dozen  out-of-town  people  and  invited  them 
to  become  the  guests  of  the  house  for  over  the  twenty- 
fifth.  These  consisted  of  boarding-school  friends  of 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      181 

Ruth's,  several  of  Edith's;  and  Oliver  and  Malcolm, 
who  of  course  came  home  for  the  event,  provided  a 
generous  supply  of  men  from  their  crowd  at  college. 

The  three  automobiles  were  kept  busy  meeting 
trains  all  the  day  before  the  tea,  and  the  expressmen 
were  tramping  up  and  down  the  stairs  with  dozens 
of  various  trunks  of  all  styles  and  sizes.  The  guest 
rooms  in  The  Homestead  looked  very  festive,  all 
decked  out  in  real  lace  and  silver,  with  Edith's  best 
embroidered  trousseau-spreads  stretched  out  gor 
geously  upon  the  beds.  It  really  grew  quite  exciting 
as  the  time  for  the  tea  drew  near  —  even  I  felt  a  little 
of  the  pervading  delight.  Of  course  I  hated  meeting 
so  many  new  people,  but  everybody's  attention  was 
centered  upon  Ruth,  and  I  was  perfectly  free  to  with 
draw  to  my  room  at  any  time  I  desired.  I,  thank 
goodness,  was  only  Ruth's  sister. 

The  tea  was  on  a  Wednesday,  October  twenty-fifth, 
from  five  until  seven  o'clock.  Edith  had  bought  a 
lovely  dress  for  me  —  pink  and  soft  and  shining  — 
and  about  three  o'clock  she  sent  the  professional  hair 
dresser,  who  had  been  spending  the  day  at  the  house, 
to  puff  and  marcel  Bobbie,  she  said. 

I  hardly  knew  myself  when  I  gazed  into  my  mir^ 
ror  after  I  was  all  dressed.  My  hair  was  done  up- 
:high  like  a  queen's,  and  there  were  two  little  sparkling 
pink  wings  in  it.  My  dress  was  cut  into  a  V  in  front, 
and  my  neck  looked  so  long  and  slender  with  my  hair 
drawn  away  from  its  usual  place  in  the  back,  and 
piled  up  in  a  soft  puffy  pyramid  on  top,  that  I  seemed 
almost  stately.  I  just  wished  Dr.  Maynard  could  see 
San  Francisco  then! 

As  I  walked  out  into  the  hall,  my  train  made  a 


182      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

lovely  sound  on  the  soft  oriental  rugs.  I  stood  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs  and  gazed  about  me.  Every 
thing  was  in  readiness  —  maids  in  black  and  white 
stationed  at  the  bedroom  doors,  the  musicians  below 
already  beginning  to  tune  their  instruments,  the  dark 
draperies  drawn,  a  soft  illumination  of  electricity 
everywhere,  and  the  faint  delicious  odour  of  coffee 
mixed  with  the  perfume  of  roses.  I  was  over 
whelmed  with  the  spirit  of  prosperity  that  filled  every 
corner  and  cranny  of  my  father's  house.  I  won 
dered  what  Father  would  think  of  it  all  —  big,  calm, 
quiet  Father  whose  tastes  were  so  plain,  habits  so 
simple,  and  whose  words  of  advice  to  us  his  children 
always  so  eloquent  with  the  wickedness  of  extrava 
gance.  I  put  him  out  of  my  mind  just  as  quickly  as 
I  could.  I  didn't  want  to  think  of  him  just  now.  I 
wanted  to  have  a  good  time  for  once  in  my  life;  I 
wanted  everybody  to  see  that  I  wasn't  shy  and  quiet 
and  plain;  I  wanted  to  be  clever  and  admired;  and  I 
would  be  too!  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  myself,  whole 
length,  in  the  long  hall-mirror.  My  cheeks  were 
flushed  and  rosy,  my  eyes  were  dark  and  bright.  I 
really  believed  I  was  pretty!  I  could  have  shouted, 
I  felt  so  happy.  I  ran  down  the  side  stairway,  that 
leads  to  the  hall  off  the  porte-cochere,  through  the 
chrysanthemum-laden  living-room  and  hall,  into  the 
rose-perfumed  reception-room,  where  I  found  Edith 
and  Ruth  ready  for  the  first  arrival.  I  felt  suddenly 
generous-hearted  toward  all  the  prosperity  and  lux 
ury  that  made  such  a  palace  of  our  old  house  and 
such  a  new  creature  of  me.  I  wanted  to  tell  Edith 
how  lovely  I  thought  it  all  was. 

I  had  more  reason  than  ever  to   feel  grateful  to 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      183 

Edith  about  an  hour  later.  It  was  at  the  very  height 
of  the  afternoon  rush,  about  quarter  past  five.  I  hap 
pened  to  be  standing  just  back  of  Edith,  waiting  for 
a  chance  to  offer  her  some  lemonade  which  one  of 
the  ladies  assisting  had  been  thoughtful  enough  to 
send  to  her  by  me.  There  was  a  long  line  of  women 
that  stretched  way  out  into  the  hall,  just  like  a  line 
in  front  of  a  ticket  window  at  the  theatre,  each  wait 
ing  her  turn  for  a  chance  to  shake  hands  with  Edith, 
though  most  of  them  she  sees  every  time  she  goes 
out  anyhow.  Edith  was  very  gracious  and  cordial 
this  afternoon.  I've  heard  very  often  that  she  makes 
a  lovely  hostess.  I  watched  her  closely,  trying  to  see 
just  where  the  charm  lay. 

"Ah,  good  afternoon!  Mrs.  Fullerton,  I  be 
lieve?"  suddenly  broke  in  on  my  reflections,  and  I 
glanced  up  quickly,  curious  to  see  the  poor  little  neg 
lected  bride  whom  I  championed.  There  really  was 
nothing  very  poor  nor  very  neglected  about  her  ap 
pearance.  I  couldn't  see  her  face  beneath  her 
plumed  picture-hat,  but  her  costume  was  very  costly 
and  elegant  —  a  lot  of  Irish  lace  over  something 
dark. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Hugh  Fullerton,"  she  replied  effu 
sively.  "  Hugh  has  told  me  so  much  about  his  good 
times  here  at  The  Homestead,  Mrs.  Vars,  and  how 
kind  and  cordial  you've  been  to  him,  and  I  do  want 
to  thank  you.  Haven't  you  a  gorgeous  afternoon? 
I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you,  after  all  Hugh  has  said. 
Why,  I  know  some  of  your  horses  by  name  even  — 
Regal,  for  instance  —  the  one  that  threw  Hugh  —  do 
you  remember?  " 

Edith's   manner   cooled,   hostess   though   she   was. 


184      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Regal  has  thrown  so  many ! "  she  remarked. 
"  Ruth,  Mrs.  Fullerton,"  she  finished. 

"  Oh,"  went  on  Mrs.  Fullerton  to  Ruth,  not  at  all 
abashed,  "  I've  met  Miss  Vars  already.  A  bride  re 
members  everybody  new  she  meets,  you  know,  and 
then  of  course  I  couldn't  help  but  remember  you.'* 
There  was  something  hauntingly  familiar  about  Mrs. 
Fullerton's  manner  and  voice.  I  put  the  lemonade 
on  a  table  near  by  and  drew  nearer.  "  It  was  at  Mrs. 
Jaynes'  bridge-party  last  week,"  she  went  on ;  "  don't 
you  remember?  We  played  at  the  same  table,  Miss 
Vars." 

"  Did  we  ?  "  inquired  Ruth  in  her  sweet,  icy,  little 
way ;  "  I  don't  remember." 

"Of  course,"  flushed  Mrs.  Fullerton.  "De 
butantes  meet  so  many  new  people.  I  know  just 
how  it  is  —  I  was  there  once  myself.  I  don't  wonder 
one  bit.  I  remember  /  couldn't  keep  even  the  men 
straight,  to  say  nothing  of  the  women." 

"  O  Lucy,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Edith,  catching 
sight  of  me,  "  this  is  Mrs.  Fullerton.  My  other  sis 
ter,  Miss  Vars,  Mrs.  Fullerton.  She'll  take  you  to 
the  dining-room  and  serve  you  some  tea  or  an  ice." 

I  raised  my  eyes  to  Mrs.  Fullerton's.  No,  I  hadn't 
been  mistaken.  I  should  have  recognised  that  voice 
in  China.  Mrs.  Fullerton's  mouth  opened  in  amaze 
ment  as  she  gazed  at  me. 

"  Lucy  Vars,"  she  finally  ejaculated.  "  Lucy 
Vars!  Why,  Lucy,  don't  you  remember  Sarah 
Platt?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  I  nodded. 

"How  lovely!  How  perfectly  lovely!"  exploded 
Sarah.  "  Why,  Mrs.  Vars,"  she  sparkled,  "  Lucy 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      185 

and  I  are  old  pals!  Isn't  it  too  nice  for  anything? 
We  were  at  Miss  Brown's-on-the-Hudson  the  same 
year,  and  I  guess  if  you've  ever  been  to  boarding- 
school  yourself,  you  know  what  that  means.  Why, 
Lucy,  you  old  trump,  how  are  you  anyway?  I'm 
simply  pleased  to  pieces ! "  And  the  once  much-en 
vied  Sarah  Platt  of  years  ago,  the  successful,  the  glo 
rious  Sarah  Platt,  enveloped  me  at  last  in  a  huge 
schoolgirl  embrace! 

"  Hypocrite !  "  I  thought. 

"  I'd  lost  track  of  Lucy  completely,"  she  went  on 
to  Edith  and  Ruth,  linking  her  arm  familiarly  through 
mine.  "  I'd  forgotten  your  home  was  in  Hilton, 
though  I  certainly  knew  it  was  in  Massachusetts  some 
where.  Wasn't  it  stupid?  Here  I've  been  living  for 
three  months  in  the  same  place  with  you,  Lucy  Vars, 
and  never  knew  it!  Here  you  were  all  the  time  a 
sister  to  Mrs.  Alexander  Vars,  whom  Hugh  wrote  me 
so  much  about  that  I  almost  grew  jealous,"  she 
laughed.  "  Isn't  this  world  just  the  smallest  place  you 
ever  heard  of,  Mrs.  Vars?  You  must  come  right 
over  and  see  me,  Lucy,  and  make  up  for  lost  time, 
and  I  hope  you'll  both  come  with  her,"  smiled  Sarah 
upon  my  sisters ;  "  I'd  simply  love  to  have  you." 

We  moved  away  toward  the  dining-room. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,"  went  on  Sarah,  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you  again!  It's  just  like  discovering  somebody  from 
home.  I  haven't  any  friend  here  my  own  age  at  all. 
You've  grown  so  pretty!  You're  looking  splendid; 
and  aren't  your  sister  and  sister-in-law  just  stun 
ning!" 

I  drew  my  arm  away  from  Sarah's.  I  remembered 
what  she  had  thought  about  my  family  once. 


i86      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Don't  leave  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "  please,  or  I'll 
perish.  Stay  while  I  have  my  ice.  I  don't  know 
one  soul  in  that  dining-room." 

Life  works  out  its  patterns  very  cunningly,  I  think. 
Once  I  had  hidden  in  shame  behind  a  telegraph-pole 
from  this  majestic  creature;  once  she  had  looked 
upon  me  as  mean  and  insignificant,  unworthy  of  even 
her  pity ;  now  she  actually  plead  for  my  favour,  toadied 
to  my  family,  palavered  me  with  flatteries.  I  drew 
in  deep  breaths  of  satisfaction. 

"  Dear,  dear  life,  how  kind  and  just  you  are  after 
all !  "  I  said  half  an  hour  later,  gazing  into  my  mir 
ror,  in  my  own  closed  room.  "  My  day  is  dawning 
now  —  mine,  mine,  at  last !  And  I'm  so  happy ! 
I'm  going  to  have  a  wonderful  time  at  the  dance  to 
night.  I  feel  it.  Oh,  it's  good  after  all  to  have 
money  and  prosperity;  it's  good  to  wear  soft,  pink 
shimmering  dresses  that  are  becoming  and  make  peo 
ple  gaze  and  whisper;  it's  good  to  hold  such  a  posi 
tion  in  a  community  that  even  Sarah  Platts  bow  and 
scrape  and  try  to  please ;  it's  more  than  good  —  it's 
exhilarating !  " 

I  went  out  into  the  hall  and  started  to  go  down  the 
main  stairway.  It  was  deserted  now.  The  hour 
was  seven-thirty,  just  before  the  men  were  due  to  ar 
rive  for  the  supper  and  the  evening  celebrations  to 
follow. 

Half-way  down  this  stairway,  on  the  landing, 
there  is  a  large  portrait  of  my  father.  Amid  all  the 
preparations  going  on  in  the  house  I  had  not  known 
that  Edith  had  had  the  electricians  adjust  a  row  of 
shielded  electric  lights  at  the  top  of  the  heavy  frame 
of  Father's  picture.  The  portrait  had  always  hung 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      187 

on  the  landing  where  the  light  is  very  dim.  We  had 
had  it  for  years.  It  was  painted  when  we  were  pros 
perous,  but  I  had  never  examined  it  very  closely.  It 
was  an  awfully  black  sort  of  picture,  and  before  Ruth's 
tea  I  could  not  have  definitely  said  whether  Father 
was  standing  or  sitting  in  it.  I  didn't  know  that  a 
row  of  lights  could  make  such  a  difference.  As  I 
turned  on  the  landing  that  night  and  came  suddenly 
upon  the  painting  I  stopped  stock-still.  Why,  it 
wasn't  a  picture!  I  didn't  see  the  frame,  nor  the 
canvas,  nor  the  paint  It  was  Father,  dear  Father 
himself,  sitting  at  his  roll-top  desk  down  in  the  sit 
ting-room.  I  could  see  every  little  wrinkle  in  his 
face,  the  crows-feet  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  the 
fine,  tired-looking  lines  along  his  forehead.  He  was 
sitting  in  his  big  leather  armchair,  and  I  remembered 
exactly  how  the  leather  had  worn  brown  and  velvety 
like  that,  along  the  edges.  As  usual  he  wore  across 
his  breast  his  heavy  gold  watch-chain,  with  the  black 
onyx  fob  —  the  one  he  used  to  let  me  play  with  in 
church,  when  I  was  very  little  —  and  in  one  hand, 
which  was  resting  easily  along  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
Father  held  his  glasses  just  as  he  used  to  hold  them 
when  he  took  them  off  to  glance  up  at  me  before  I 
dashed  off  to  dancing-school  on  Saturday  nights. 
"Can't  you  keep  that  hair  a  little  smoother?"  he'd 
say  to  me,  and  "  Isn't  there  a  good  deal  of  trimming 
on  that  dress?  Your  mother  always  wore  plain 
things  with  a  little  white  at  her  neck.  Keep  your 
tastes  simple,  my  girl,  and  your  clothes  neat  and  nicely 
sewed."  They  were  plain,  homely  words.  Any  man 
could  say  them,  but  as  I  remembered  them  that  night, 
they  seemed  terribly  sweet  —  almost  sacred  —  and  J 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

backed  up  against  the  wall,  and  stared  at  Father  there 
before  me,  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  He  would  not 
have  liked  the  sparkling  wings  I  was  wearing  in  my 
hair.  The  dress  that  Edith  had  given  me  —  all  shi 
ning  satin,  wasn't  like  my  mother's  with  a  little  white 
at  the  neck.  The  silent,  sad  expression  in  my  fa 
ther's  eyes  smote  me.  He  was  gazing  straight  at  me, 
clown  into  my  heart.  I  almost  saw  his  lips  move. 
The  words  of  the  verse  that  he  used  to  repeat  so  often 
at  our  morning  prayers  after  breakfast,  I  seemed  to 
hear  again :  "  Children,  how  hard  it  is  for  them  that 
trust  in  riches  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God." 
Father  was  always  quoting  things  from  the  Bible 
about  vanity  and  riches.  His  heroes  were  always  big, 
simple,  honest  men  like  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Benja 
min  Franklin.  As  I. stood  and  stared  at  Father's  pic 
ture  the  musicians  began  to  play  some  soft,  dreamy 
melody,  and  just  then  Alec  from  above  caught  sight 
of  me  leaning  up  against  the  wall. 

"  Hello,"  he  called  cheerfully ;  "  how  do  you  like 
the  new  lights  on  the  picture?"  And  he  came  trip 
ping  down  all  dressed  up  in  his  evening  clothes  to 
join  me.  I  don't  believe  Alec  had  seen  the  portrait 
lighted  before  either,  for  he  stopped  short  beside  me 
when  he  came  in  full  view  of  it.  He  was  speechless 
for  a  moment.  Really  those  lights  made  Father  look 
as  if  he  could  answer  if  we  spoke  to  him.  He  seemed 
to  be  actually  sitting  there  amid  all  the  luxury  and 
splendour  he  had  so  despised.  Alec  came  over  be 
side  me.  He  took  my  hand  in  his  and  for  a  long 
sweet  half-minute,  my  old  partner  and  I  stood  there 
together  on  the  landing  and  gazed  up  into  Father's 
aoble  eyes. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      189 

"  It's  miraculous,"  breathed  Alec,  softly,  at  last. 

I  couldn't  answer.  It  was  miraculous.  I  wished 
I  was  in  my  ugly  old  blue  cashmere  and  could  crawl 
up  into  Father's  lap. 

I  didn't  know  anybody  was  coming  up  the  stairs 
till  suddenly  Alec  dropped  my  hand  and  left  me. 

"  Hello  —  hello  there,"  he  called  out  jovially. 
"  Come  right  up,  Mr.  Campbell.  Just  gotten  here, 
haven't  you?  Everything's  gone  in  tip-top  shape  so 
far.  We're  looking  pretty  fine  around  here,  aren't 
we?  Bobbie  and  I  were  passing  judgment  on  Edith's 
new  lights.  Here,  let  me  take  that  coat.  Edith  dis 
covered  that  this  old  portrait  of  Father  was  by  an 
artist  who  has  a  reputation  now,  so  she  had  it  prop 
erly  lighted.  It  is  marvellous  what  a  really  excellent 
likeness  it  is.  Come  and  tell  us  your  opinion." 

I  slunk  away  to  my  room  quietly. 

All  that  evening  amid  the  babble  of  voices  and  din 
of  violins,  pianos  and  cornets,  while  girls  in  gorgeous 
raiment  sat  beneath  Father's  picture  between  dances 
with  their  partners  on  the  top  stair  of  the  landing,  and 
just  below  men  gathered  around  the  punch-bowl; 
while  Edith  and  Ruth  shone  in  jewels,  and  old  Dave 
Campbell  blatantly  exhibited  the  latest  improvements 
in  the  house  to  all  his  friends,  Father  looked  down 
upon  it  all  from  his  loftly  position  silently,  disap 
provingly,  a  look  of  censure  in  his  eyes  that  I  couldn't 
seem  to  escape.  My  little  hour  of  triumph  was 
snuffed  out  by  Father's  gaze  like  a  candle  in  a  tem 
pest;  my  sudden  self-satisfaction,  my  burst  of  eager 
joy  in  prosperity  and  position,  born  to  feel  the  throb 
of  life  but  for  an  hour. 

I  didn't  enjoy  the  dance.     I  couldn't.     I  tried  once 


!190      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

or  twice  to  "  enter  in,"  but  it  was  masquerade. 
There  had  been  champagne  served  at  the  supper. 
Girls  as  well  as  men  were  full  of  the  spirit  of  mad 
merry-making.  Everybody  was  having  a  glorious 
time  —  everybody  but  me.  I  hated  the  hilarious 
laughter.  I  don't  mean  to  imply  that  any  one  became 
intoxicated,  I  don't  think  they  did  exactly,  but  just 
the  same  the  whole  affair  seemed  to  me  like  a  debauch 
going  on  in  my  father's  house  beneath  his  very  eyes. 
I  stole  up  to  the  landing  about  eleven  o'clock  when 
the  music  was  still  shrieking,  Ruth's  cheeks  burning 
with  excitement,  Oliver  laughing  so  loudly  that  I 
could  hear  him  above  the  music,  and  switched  off  the 
lights  above  Father's  picture.  He  shouldn't  look  on 
at  such  festivities  —  mute,  unable  to  speak  his  mind, 
tied  there  in  his  chair,  helpless  and  forgotten  —  he 
shouldn't  if  I  could  help  it! 

Late  that  same  night  —  or  it  must  have  been  the 
next  morning  —  anyway  after  every  one  was  quiet, 
and  the  house  was  finally  dark  I  stole  out  of  my  room 
and  crept  quietly  down  on  the  landing.  The  house 
was  dead  still.  I  heard  the  big  clock  with  the  chimes 
strike  a  half-hour,  and  a  second  after  all  the  other 
clocks  reply.  I  was  in  my  nightgown  wrapped 
around  with  an  eiderdown  bath-robe.  I  found  my 
'way  stealthily  to  the  little  button  behind  the  portrait. 
;I  pushed  it.  There  was  a  little  click  and  suddenly 
Father  was  before  me!  I  went  back  and  sat  down 
on  the  lowest  stair,  close  up  to  the  railing,  and  looked 
up  into  his  comforting  eyes.  No  one  had  known  that 
I  had  spent  the  last  six  dances  shut  up  in  my  room. 
No  one  had  missed  me.  I  had  had  a  horrid  time,  but 
no  one  cared. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       191 

There  were  the  remains  of  the  orgy  of  the  night 
before  scattered  all  about  Father's  feet  —  a  discarded 
bunch  of  violets,  a  torn  piece  of  chiffon,  a  half  a 
macaroon,  a  girl's  handkerchief.  As  I  sat  there  and 
wondered  how  Ruth  and  the  twins  and  Alec  could  all 
go  peacefully  to  sleep,  unmindful  of  their  strict  and 
rigid  bringing-up,  forgetful  of  Father  left  here  in  the 
midst  of  the  confusion  of  the  things  he  preached 
against,  I  heard  from  somewhere,  way  off,  a  queer 
long  laugh.  I  listened  intently,  and  in  a  moment  I 
could  catch  the  rumble  of  voices  from  behind  closed 
doors.  I  wondered  who  could  be  awake  at  such  an 
hour,  when  a  door  opened  downstairs,  and  as  plain 
and  distinct  as  day,  a  man's  voice  exclaimed,  "  Come 
on,  boys,  we'll  have  to  carry  old  Ol  up.  Lend  a  hand, 
one  of  you  chaps  who  can  walk  straight,  and  don't 
make  any  noise.  Wake  up,  Oliver,  old  pal.  We're 
going  to  bed."  I  heard  a  horrid  guttural  sort  of  re 
joinder  from  Oliver,  and  I  shuddered.  Some  of  the 
men  must  have  been  sitting  up  in  the  dining-room  and 
drinking!  I  knew,  oh,  I  knew  now,  that  Oliver  must 
be  intoxicated!  I  was  in  my  nightgown.  There  was 
no  time  to  turn  out  the  lights  over  Father's  picture, 
to  shield  Father  from  the  awful  sight  of  his  son, 
drunk  —  horridly,  helplessly  drunk,  being  carried  up 
stairs  to  bed.  I  glanced  up  at  Father  shining  there 
in  his  frame.  He  was  looking  straight  down  the  long 
broad  stairway.  In  another  minute  Oliver  and 
Father  would  meet  face  to  face.  I  turned  and  fled 
back  to  my  room. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FOUR  months  later.  Twelve  o'clock  at  night. 
Wrapped  up  in  my  eiderdown  bath-robe.  Sit 
ting  at  my  desk. 

It  is  midnight.  I  cannot  sleep.  I  have  been  lying 
iwide  awake,  listening  to  a  strong  April  wind,  howl 
ing  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  for  two  hours! 
I've  repeated  the  twenty-third  Psalm  over  and  over 
again.  I've  imagined  a  flock  of  sheep  going  over 
a  stile  (though  I  never  saw  it  done)  for  ten  minutes 
solid.  I've  swallowed  two  Veronal  tablets.  It's  use 
less.  I  surrender.  I  don't  want  to  get  up.  I  shall 
have  an  awful  headache  to-morrow,  besides  heavy 
lead  weights  behind  my  eyes ;  and  to-morrow  —  to 
morrow  of  all  days  —  I  want  to  be  fresh  and  bright 
and  as  beautiful  as  nature  can  make  me.  Moreover, 
I'd  rather  not  write.  But  I  can't  read.  There  has 
never  been  a  book  printed  that  could  hold  my  thoughts 
to-night.  My  mind  goes  back  to  the  events  of  the 
day  like  steel  to  a  magnet.  I've  tried  solitaire,  and 
ended  by  pushing  the  silly  cards  on  the  floor. 
You  see  something  has  happened  —  something  big 
and  actual  and  real! 

I  have  seen  Dr.  Maynard! 

I  have  met  him  face  to  face,  talked  with  him, 
laughed  with  him,  walked  with  him  from  Charles 
Street  to  the  sunken  garden,  sat  with  him  by  the  foun 
tain.  I  am  beside  myself  with  excitement.  I  had 
better  tell  how  it  all  happened.  If  I  get  it  out  of  my 

192 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      193 

system  I  may  be  able  to  snatch  a  little  sleep,  and  I 
must  sleep.  I  have  an  important  engagement  to 
morrow  at  three. 

It  occurred  at  four  o'clock  this  afternoon.  I  had 
bought  a  bunch  of  primroses  from  a  man  on  the  street 
five  minutes  before.  I  was  on  my  way  home  from 
a  shopping  tour,  and  with  my  pretty  early-spring 
flowers  tucked  in  at  my  waist,  and  my  hands  full  of 
packages,  I  turned  up  Charles  Street  as  unconcerned 
as  you  please.  At  the  corner  I  bowed  to  our  min 
ister's  wife,  and  the  remains  of  the  smile  were  still 
on  my  face,  I  suppose,  when  I  saw  Dr.  Maynard.  I 
didn't  know  that  he  was  on  this  side  of  the  ocean, 
and  when  I  observed  him  coming  down  the  steps  of 
the  postoffice  —  vigorous  and  strong  and  buoyant  — 
I  stood  still  in  my  tracks,  and  the  remains  of  the  smile 
turned  into  something  startled  and  afraid.  Dr.  May 
nard  approached  me  all  aglow,  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  took  mine  in  a  warm,  firm  grasp.  A  thrill  went 
through  me  like  a  knife.  He  was  as  natural  as  day, 
beautifully  tanned,  smiling,  big,  broad-shouldered  as 
ever,  and  yet  different  —  oh,  awfully  different. 

"  Hello,  Bobbie,"  he  said  in  his  hearty  old  voice, 
and  I  looked  back  at  him,  perfectly  white  —  I  could 
feel  that  I  was  —  and  speechless.  "  Don't  be  a  goose. 
It's  just  Dr.  Maynard,"  I  tried  to  reason  with  my 
self. 

"Am  I  speaking  to  Miss  Lucy  Vars?"  I  heard 
asked  of  me.  "  Miss  Lucy  Chenery  Vars,  of  240 
Main  Street,  Hilton,  Mass.?" 

I  nodded,  and  somewhere  down  there  in  the  chaos 
in  my  chest,  I  found  my  poor  little  voice.  "  Is  it 
you?"  I  asked  shakily. 


194      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure.  Nothing  looks  very 
natural  around  here.  I'm  beginning  to  think  I'm 
somebody  else." 

"  Well,  I  am  surprised ! "  I  exploded.  "  I 
certainly  am  surprised!  Why,  I  never  was  so  sur 
prised  ! "  I  stopped  a  minute.  Dr.  Maynard  was 
smiling  right  down  into  my  eyes.  .  "  I  never  was  so 
surprised  in  all  my  life!"  I  repeated,  as  if  I  hadn't 
another  idea  in  my  head. 

He  leaned  down  just  here  and  picked  up  a  half- 
dozen  bundles,  more  or  less,  that  I  had  dropped  when 
we  shook  hands. 

"  I  better  help  you  carry  some  of  these  home, 
hadn't  I  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,  do,"  I  replied  eagerly,  and  somehow  we 
managed  to  walk  back  to  the  house  together. 

I  don't  know  through  what  streets  we  went,  past 
what  houses.  I  can  scarcely  recall  of  what  we 
talked.  "  He's  come  home !  He's  come  home ! 
He's  come  home !  "  kept  ringing  in  my  ears  over  and 
over  again,  like  jubilant  chimes.  "  Dr.  Maynard  has 
come  home !  "  And  whenever  I  looked  up  and  saw 
him  smiling  down  at  me  —  so  naturally,  so  beauti 
fully —  it  seemed  as  if  I  should  have  to  make  a 
pirouette  or  two,  right  there  on  the  sidewalk.  Every 
time  he  laughed  I  wanted  to  shout ;  every  time  he  re- 
1  marked  upon  a  new  building  or  a  new  house,  and  es 
pecially  when  he  exclaimed,  "  Good  heavens !  What 
have  we  here?"  at  the  sight  of  one  of  the  taxicabs, 
I  wanted  to  turn  a  handspring.  When  he  first  came 
in  view  of  240  Main  Street  and  stood  stock-still  in  his 
tracks,  and  gasped,  "  Where's  the  cupola,  and  the 
French  roof,  and  the  iron  fountain,  and  the  barn,  and 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      195 

the  apple  orchard  ? "  I  wanted  to  throw  my  arms 
around  him  for  joy.  I  must  have  felt  like  a  dog  at 
the  sight  of  his  beloved  master  whom  he  hasn't  seen 
for  months.  It  was  so  intoxicating  to  have  Dr.  May- 
nard  beside  me  again  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  ex 
press  my  joy  by  jumping  up  on  him,  and  half  knock 
ing  him  down.  Which,  of  course,  I  didn't  do.  My 
voice  broke  a  dozen  times,  my  underlip  trembled,  my 
cheeks  burned  with  excitement,  but  otherwise  I  walked 
along  as  sedately  as  if  it  were  an  everyday  occurrence 
to  run  across  a  man  I  believed  was  hopelessly  buried 
in  a  laboratory  in  Europe. 

It  was  in  the  sunken  garden  that  the  most  impor 
tant  part  of  our  conversation  took  place.  You  remem 
ber,  don't  you,  that  in  my  letters  to  Dr.  Maynard  I  had 
always  been  enthusiastic  over  the  improvements  Edith 
has  made  on  old  240.  So  now  it  was  with  apparent 
pride  that  I  led  my  old  friend  down  the  granolithic 
steps  into  the  one-time  apple  orchard.  I  showed  him 
the  cement-lined  pool  in  the  centre,  the  Italian  garden- 
seat,  the  rare  shrubbery  now  bound  up  in  yellow  straw, 
with  something  like  delight.  I  was  so  full  of  exulta 
tion  at  the  mere  sight  of  dear,  kind,  understanding 
Dr.  Maynard  that  I  could  have  rejoiced  about  any 
thing.  When  I  exclaimed,  "  And  there's  a  squash- 
Vcourt  connected  with  the  garage,  and  a  tennis-court 
as  smooth  as  glass  beside  the  stable;  and  where  the 
old  potato-patch  used  to  be,  there's  a  pergola !  "  my 
eyes  fairly  sparkled.  "  That  sun-dial  over  there,"  I 
boasted,  "  was  designed  especially  for  Edith ;  and  oh, 
there's  the  dearest,  slimmest  little  stream  of  water  that 
spouts  out  of  the  centre  of  the  pool,  in  the  summer. 
You  ought  to  see  it !  "  I  was  all  enthusiasm.  Edith 


196      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

wouldn't  have  recognised  me.  Ruth  would  have 
thought  I  had  lost  my  reason.  Even  Dr.  Maynard 
looked  at  me  curiously. 

"  It  certainly  is  all  very  fine,  I've  no  doubt,"  he 
remarked. 

"Yes,   isn't   it?"   I   exclaimed. 

"  But  I  must  confess,"  he  went  on.  "  7  never  ob 
jected  to  the  old  apple  orchard.  Just  about  where 
the  pool  is  now,  there  used  to  grow  the  best  old  Bald 
wins  I  ever  tasted." 

"  Oh,  my,"  I  scoffed,  "  you  ought  to  see  the  bouncing 
big  Oregon  apples  Edith  buys  by  the  crate." 

Dr.  Maynard  shook  his  head  and  smiled.  Then  he 
came  over  and  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  Italian  seat. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  sighed,  "  I  suppose  old  Rip  must 
get  used  to  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  since 
he's  been  asleep  —  squash-courts  and  pergolas,  great 
sweeping  estates  with  granolithic  drives  and  sunken 
gardens;  new  hotels;  new  postoffices;  instead  of  the 
roomy,  old-fashioned  livery-stable  hacks,  taxicabs;  in 
stead  of  good  old  snappy  New  England  Baldwins, 
apples  imported  from  Oregon;  and  instead  of  a  girl 
in  a  red  Tam-o-Shanter  and  her  father's  old  weather- 
beaten  ulster,  sitting  behind  the  wheel  of  a  little  one- 
lunger  automobile,  running  it,  in  all  sorts  of  weather, 
like  a  young  breeze — '-  instead  of  that  girl,"  said  Dr. 
Maynard,  looking  me  up  and  down  closely,  "  a  very 
correct  and  up-to-date  young  lady  in  kid  gloves  and 
a  veil,  a  smart  black  and  white  checked  suit,  a  very 
fashionable  hat  (7  should  call  it),  with  a  bunch  of 
primroses,  to  cap  it  all,  pinned  jauntily  at  her  waist." 

I  blushed  with  triumph. 

"  I've  just  about  come  to  the  conclusion,"  added 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       197 

Dr.  Maynard  in  a  kind  of  wistful  voice,  "  that  I  don't 
know  San  Francisco  at  all  now." 

"  Well,"  I  laughed  waveringly,  "  I  do  hope  you'll 
find  it  a  little  more  civilised  than  it  was  before. 

"  I  never  thought  it  was  uncivilised,"  said  Dr.  May 
nard  quietly;  "/  rather  enjoyed  it  just  as  it  was,  to 
tell  the  truth.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  find  many  changes 
in  it  because  I  shall  have  to  become  acquainted  with 
it  all  over  again  and  my  time  is  so  short." 

"Short?"  I  exclaimed.  I  don't  know  why  I  had 
drawn  the  sudden  conclusion  that  Dr.  Maynard  had 
come  back  to  stay.  His  very  next  words  put  an  end 
to  my  little  half-hour  of  jubilance  like  the  announce 
ment  of  a  death. 

'  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  sailing  back  to  Germany  in 
two  weeks.  I  was  appointed  an  executor  of  a  distant 
relative's  will,  and  it  seemed  necessary  to  come  to 
New  York  and  attend  to  it.  Of  course  I  couldn't  be 
so  near  —  San  Francisco,  without  coming  to  see  how 
it  prospered  after  the  earthquake.  I'm  glad  to  find 
you  so  happy,  Bobbie.  You've  richly  earned  all  this," 
he  glanced  around  the  display  that  surrounded  us, 
"  both  you  and  Al,  and  it's  really  fine  that  the  change 
in  your  circumstances  came  about,  when  you,  Lucy, 
were  still  a  young  girl,  and  just  ready  to  appreciate 
and  enjoy  good  times,  and  pretty  surroundings,  and 
new  young  people.  Sometimes  the  apparent  catastro 
phes  work  out  for  our  best  happiness.  You  are  happy, 
aren't  you,  Bobbie?" 

"  Oh,  yes  —  perfectly  happy,"  I  flashed  indignantly. 

"  I  thought  so.  Your  enthusiasm  brims  over  in 
your  letters.  Well,  well,"  twitted  Dr.  Maynard, 
"  who  ever  would  have  thought  Al's  little  sister,  whom 


198      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  used  to  call  '  wild-cat/  would  turn  into  a  society  girl 
—  a  mighty  popular  one  too,  if  I'm  any  judge. 
Parties  and  engagements  all  the  time,  I  suppose.  Now: 
I'm  just  curious  enough  to  wonder,"  went  on  Dr. 
Maynard  teasingly,  while  my  feelings,  hurt  and  en 
raged,  were  working  up  to  one  of  their  habitual  ex 
plosions,  "which  one  of  all  those  admirers  I  hear  men 
tioned  in  your  letters  sent  you  your  pretty  primroses 
this  morning." 

"  No  one  sent  them,"  I  blurted  out.  "If  you  must 
know,  I  bought  them  myself  five  minutes  before  I  saw 
you.  Those  men  in  my  letters  were  Ruth's  friends, 
not  mine." 

Dr.  Maynard  glanced  at  me  sharply. 

"  Oh,"  I  went  on  fiercely,  "  I'm  glad  to  know  if 
you  think  that  I'm  happy.  It  shows  how  well  you 
understand  me.  Happy!  I'm  perfectly  miserable,  if 
you  want  to  know  the  truth.  I  hate  and  loathe  and 
despise  all  this  display  you  say  I've  so  richly  earned. 
I  hate  parties,  and  splurge,  and  sunken  gardens,  and 
pergolas,  and  I  haven't  a  single  solitary  admirer  in 
the  world.  I  thought  you  knew  me,  but  I  see  you 
don't.  I  thought  if  you  ever  came  back  you'd  under 
stand,  but  you  don't  —  not  one  little  single  bit.  I 
thought  you  —  you  — " 

I  stopped  abruptly.  There's  no  use  trying  to  hide 
tears  that  run  shamelessly  down  your  cheeks.  It  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  ask  for  my  bag  which 
Dr.  Maynard  held,  and  produce  a  handkerchief.  He 
didn't  say  anything  as  I  mopped  my  eyes.  I  thought 
perhaps  he  was  too  shocked  to  speak.  He  didn't  offer 
me  a  single  word  of  comfort  —  just  sat  and  waited. 
I  didn't  look  at  him;  and  still  with  my  face  turned 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER       199 

away  I  said,  subdued,  apologetically,  "  I  don't  see 
what  is  the  matter  with  me  lately.  You  mustn't  mind 
my  being  so  silly.  I'm  always  getting  '  weepy  '  for  no 
reason  at  all."  I  opened  my  bag,  tucked  away  my 
handkerchief,  as  a  sign  that  the  storm  was  over,  and 
stood  up.  "  I  hope  you  won't  think  that  I  usually 
act  this  way  with  —  with  all  those  admirers  of  mine," 
I  added,  smiling. 

Dr.  Maynard  ignored  my  attempt  at  humour. 

"  Lucy,"  he  said  quietly,  but  in  a  voice  and  manner 
that  made  me  start  and  catch  my  breath,  "  my  real 
reason  for  coming  to  America  wasn't  the  will.  It  was 
you."  He  stopped  and  I  looked  hard  into  the  centre 
of  the  dry  pool.  "  I  mistrusted  some  of  your  letters 
lately,  though  I  confess  not  at  first  —  not  until  last 
fall.  You've  been  overdoing  your  enthusiasm  this 
winter,  Bobbie.  So  I  decided  to  come  over  and  find 
out  for  myself  if  you  had  been  trying  to  deceive  me. 
The  will  offered  a  good  excuse,  so  here  I  am.  And 
you  have  been  deceiving  me  —  for  two  whole  years. 
[Why,  Bobbie,"  he  said  very  softly,  "  what  shall  I  do 
to  you?" 

I  glanced  up  and  saw  the  old  piercing  tenderness  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Don't  be  kind  to  me,"  I  warned  hastily ;  "  not  now 
—  not  for  anything.  Please,  or  I  shall  cry  again." 

I  heard  Dr.  Maynard  laugh  the  tenderest,  gentlest 
kind  of  laugh,  and  in  a  second  both  his  arms  were 
around  me.  Yes,  both  Dr.  Maynard's  arms  were 
close  around  me!  I  didn't  cry.  I  just  stayed  there 
quiet  and  still  and  safe;  and  I've  been  there  in  imagi 
nation  about  every  moment  since. 

When  he  finally  let  me  go  he  said  simply,  but  in  a 


200      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

queer  trembling  voice,  "  Will  you  go  to  drive  with  me 
to-morrow  afternoon  at  three,  way  off  into  the  coun 
try,  away  from  pergolas  and  cement  pools,  and  peo 
ple  ?" 

I  nodded,  unable  to  speak. 

"All  right.  I'll  be  here.  Good  night,"  he  said 
gently,  and  turned  abruptly  and  left  me  there  alone 
in  the  garden. 

I  watched  him  hurry  up  the  garden-steps  and  out 
of  the  gateway.  He  turned  once  and  waved  his  hand 
to  the  pitiful  little  wind-blown  creature  he  left  behind 
in  the  bleak  unbeautiful  garden.  I  felt  as  if  he  had 
torn  me  from  my  moorings  and  that  I  must  toss  and 
drift  in  strange  unknown  seas  until  to-morrow  at 
three. 

I  managed  to  gather  my  bundles  together  somehow, 
and  come  up  here  to  the  house.  My  cheeks  were  fla 
ming  when  I  opened  the  door.  I  left  my  packages  in  a 
chair  in  the  hall  and  hurried  up  here  to  my  room  as 
quickly  as  I  could.  Once  here  I  locked  my  door  tight 
and  threw  off  my  things.  "  Oh,  don't  be  silly ;  don't 
be  absurd,"  I  said,  and  buried  my  face  in  the  dark  of 
my  arms  on  my  desk.  "  It's  just  Dr.  Maynard,"  I 
went  on  later,  "  and  you  know  how  you  felt  two  years 
ago.  Oh,  be  reasonable.  Be  calm."  But  all  the  time 
that  I  was  talking  sense  to  myself,  I  was  feeling  strong 
arms  about  my  shoulders,  and  a  kind  of  sinking,  faint 
ing,  going-out  feeling  that  people  must  experience 
when  they  lose  consciousness,  would  steal  over  me  so 
that  I  couldn't  think. 

Finally  to  put  an  end  to  my  nonsense  I  opened  a 
secret  compartment  and  took  out  Robert  Dwinnell's 
picture.  He  would  cure  me  of  my  delusion ;  he  would 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      201 

keep  me  true  to  my  ideals.  I  gazed  at  Robert  Dwin- 
nell  for  a  solid  sixty  seconds,  then  deliberately,  straight 
across  the  forehead,  down  the  nose,  through  the  very 
smile  that  once  had  thrilled  me,  I  tore  that  poor  pic 
ture  into  a  thousand  bits,  and  dumped  the  remains  into 
the  waste-basket.  It  was  a  dreadful  act.  I  felt  like 
a  murderess.  I  don't  know  what  made  me  do  it,  but 
Robert  Dwinnell  had  lost  his  charm.  Dr.  Maynard, 
glowing  with  health,  his  eyes  fierce  with  a  tenderness 
that  actually  hurt,  made  my  poor  old  idol  look  flat 
and  insipid. 

Some  time  later  —  ten  minutes  perhaps  —  an  hour 
—  I  don't  know  —  a  maid  knocked  and  asked  if  I 
were  coming  down  to  dinner.  I  got  up  and  followed 
her  mechanically,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  don't  know 
.whether  there  was  roast-beef  or  lamb. 

Now  I  arn  again  locked  in  my  room,  and  my  soul 
is  actually  on  fire.  It  is  as  dark  as  death  outdoors. 
Every  one  in  the  house  is  asleep.  But  I  am  sitting 
here  gazing  at  a  little  faded  picture  of  an  automobile 
which  I  finally  discovered  in  an  old  souvenir-book  of 
mine.  That  little  speck  there  is  Dr.  Maynard  and  I 
am  going  to  see  him  to-day  at  three! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

EVER  since  I  can  remember  having  any  ideas  on' 
the  subject  at  all,  I  have  always  longed  to  be 
married  in  one  of  those  dark,  little  tucked-away 
chapels  in  some  cathedral  or  other,  in  France  or  Eng 
land,  like  a  girl  I  read  about  in  a  book.  Perhaps  a 
late  afternoon  service  would  be  going  on  up  near  the 
big  altar;  candles  would  be  burning;  the  priest  would 
be  chanting  queer  minor  things;  poor  women  would 
be  stepping  in,  crossing  themselves,  to  say  a  prayer; 
and,  all  unconscious  of  me,  nearly  hidden  by  the  big 
stone  pillars,  tourists  would  be  tip-toeing  about,  gazing 
at  the  rose-window  and  the  towering  arches.  There 
would  be  footfalls  and  whispers  in  the  nave.  Echoes 
everywhere.  I  should  have  loved  the  echoes !  "  But 
then,"  Edith  said,  "  you  wouldn't  have  had  a  sign  of 
a  wedding  present,  and  you  can't  furnish  your  house 
with  echoes,  crazy  Bobbs." 

If  ever  there  was  a  wedding  opposite  to  my  ideal  of 
one,  it  was  mine.  For  of  course  I  am  married  to  Dr. 
Maynard. 

You  aren't  surprised,  I  know.  It  was  all  decided 
that  afternoon  at  three,  and  two  weeks  later  when 
Will  sailed  back  to  Germany  it  wasn't  in  imagination 
that  I  stood  on  the  dock  and  waved  him  good-bye. 
I  was  there  soul  and  body  this  time,  and  I  followed 
with  my  fluttering  handkerchief  every  motion  that  he 
made  with  his  hat  and  great  spoke  of  an  arm.  I 
watched  him  till  he  faded  out  of  sight,  and  then  with 

202 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      203 

Ruth  and  Edith,  who  went  to  New  York  with  me, 
I  returned  to  the  shops  to  buy  my  trousseau. 

Will  had  to  be  back  in  Germany  on  May  first  to  de 
liver  a  lecture  before  a  very  learned  assembly  of  sci 
entists  and  doctors.  They  wanted  him  to  tell  them 
about  a  few  of  his  experiments  with  his  guinea-pigs. 
It  was  a  great  compliment  for  so  young  a  man,  and 
an  American  besides,  to  receive  an  invitation  to  ad 
dress  a  body  of  old-world  sages.  Of  course  he 
couldn't  disappoint  them,  but  he  told  me  that  by  the 
middle  of  August  he  would  be  sailing  back  again  and 
after  a  simple  little  wedding  in  the  dead  quiet  of  mid 
summer,  he  would  at  last  carry  his  refugee  back  with 
him  to  Europe.  He  was  not  going  to  begin  work 
until  October.  We  planned  to  travel  till  then. 

"  So,  after  all,"  said  Will  to  me  that  afternoon  at 
three  o'clock,  "  after  all,  some  day  —  oh,  Lucy  — 
perhaps  some  day  — "  and  this  time  it  was  I  who  fin 
ished  the  sentence. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  some  day,"  I  said  sparkling,  "  the 
refugee  and  you  will  be  seeing  Paris  together." 

Our  plans  would  have  been  lovely  if  they  had 
worked  out;  but  they  didn't.  I  haven't  seen  Paris 
yet,  and  there's  no  prospect  that  I  shall  until  Will's 
Sabbatical  year  comes  around.  We're  going  across 
then,  he  says,  if  we  have  to  work  our  way 
on  a  cattle  ship.  You  see  Will  no  sooner 
got  back  there  to  Germany  and  delivered  his 
lectures  to  those  old  sages,  than  the  medical 
department  of  one  of  the  biggest  universities  here 
in  America  sent  him  an  invitation  to  become  a  mem 
ber  of  their  faculty.  The  position  was  quite  to  his 
taste,  he  wrote  me.  He  could  keep  right  on  with  his 


204.      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

experimenting  and  guinea-pigs  to  his  heart's  content  — - 
the  university  had  wonderfully  equipped  laboratories,, 
the  best  in  America  —  and  what  did  I  say?  What 
should  I  say  to  a  person  whose  very  picture  that  had 
been  taken  for  just  me  to  put  on  my  bureau,  had  ap 
peared  in  two  magazines  that  month?  Such  an  in 
significant  tail  to  the  big  lion  as  I,  ought  cheerfully 
to  go  wagging  to  the  North  Pole  or  the  Sahara  Desert. 
Of  course  I  didn't  say  a  word. 

I  never  saw  anything  like  the  way  the  magazines 
burst  forth  in  sudden  praise  of  Will.  His  appoint 
ment  to  the  faculty  of  the  university  was  reported  in 
every  paper  published.  I  didn't  know  whether  my 
emotions  were  of  pride  or  fear.  After  reading  an  ac 
count  of  what  Dr.  William  Ford  Maynard  had  ac 
complished  and  how  high  his  position  was  in  the  sci 
entific  world,  and  then,  immediately  following,  seeing 
the  announcement  of  his  engagement  to  Miss  Lucy 
Chenery  Vars,  of  Hilton,  Mass.,  I  was  filled  with  a 
good  deal  of  apprehension. 

Edith  was  delighted  with  my  engagement.  To 
boast  of  William  Ford  Maynard  as  a  future  brother- 
in-law  was  a  great  feather  in  her  cap.  The  plans  for 
an  elaborate  wedding  were  formed  and  crystallised 
before  I  had  gotten  used  to  wearing  my  engagement 
ring.  I  didn't  want  a  big  wedding,  but  it  seemed 
useless  to  remonstrate.  You  see  I  was  under  obliga 
tions  to  Edith.  All  my  linen,  stiff  gorgeous  stuff  with 
heavy  elaborate  monograms,  she  had  given  me;  bath 
towels  two  yards  long  which  I  despise,  sets  of  under 
wear  all  ruffles,  fol-de-rols  and  satin  rosettes,  she  had 
bestowed  upon  me;  also  my  solid  silver  service,  Shef 
field  tray  and  flat  silver  were  gifts  from  Edith.  I 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      205 

didn't  like  my  flat  silver.  The  design  is  awfully  elabo 
rate,  representing  a  horn  of  plenty  overflowing  with 
pears  and  grapes  and  apples.  Edith,  however,  thought 
it  was  stunning.  I  didn't  like  my  wedding  invitations, 
thick  as  leather,  engraved  in  enormous  block  letters, 
my  name  staring  at  me  like  a  sign  over  a  store  and  a 
whole  pack  of  cards  besides.  But  Edith  did.  I 
didn't  want  the  ceremony  to  take  place  in  the  Episcopal 
church  which  Edith  has  been  attending  lately,  with  a 
boys'  choir  preceding  me  up  the  aisle,  when  I've  al 
ways  been  a  plain  straight  old-fashioned  Congrega- 
tionalist.  I  didn't  want  eight  bridesmaids  of  Edith's 
choosing,  selected  from  the  most  prominent  families 
that  she  could  find.  I  didn't  want  all  society  invited. 
But  I  soon  discovered  that  my  wedding  was  to  be 
Edith's  party,  not  mine. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  before  the  great 
occasion  I  was  in  the  Circassian  walnut  guest-chamber 
looking  at  the  overwhelming  display  of  wedding  pres 
ents.  The  original  furniture  had  been  moved  into 
the  stable  and  a  low  wide  shelf  covered  with  heavy 
white  damask  ran  around  the  entire  room.  Edith  had 
put  all  the  cut-glass  together  in  the  bay-window,  and 
under  the  glare  of  a  dozen  extra  electric  lights  it 
sparkled  bright  and  hard.  There  were  two  enormous 
punch-bowls,  a  lamp,  a  vase  big  enough  for  an  um 
brella-stand,  thirteen  berry  dishes,  baskets  and  candle 
sticks,  two  ice-cream  sets,  two  dozen  finger-bowls  and 
six  dozen  glasses.  I  hate  cut-glass! 

"  Lucy,  Lucy,  you  up  there  ?  "  somebody  called  as 
I  gazed. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  sang  back,  and  I  heard  Edith 
coming  up  the  stairs.  I  hadn't  a  doubt  but  that  she 


206      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

would  be  staggering  under  a  fresh  load  of  presents 
and  I  wasn't  mistaken.  She  appeared  with  a  regular 
Pisa  Tower  of  them,  extending  up  to  her  eyes. 

"  How's  this  for  a  haul?  "  she  gasped.  "  Come  on, 
my  dear,  hustle  up  and  see  what  you  draw."  Then 
she  added,  "  Gracious,  Lucy,  where  in  the  world  did 
you  resurrect  that  old  dress?  Don't  you  know  every 
one  will  be  dropping  in  at  all  hours  during  these  last 
days?"  Edith  herself  was  fairly  dazzling  in  stiff 
crackling  white  linen. 

"  It  was  so  comfortable,"  I  murmured,  "  and  it  has 
no  bones  in  the  collar." 

"  I  should  say  it  hadn't !  Your  bridesmaids  will  be 
here  any  minute.  Hurry  up  and  look  at  these  things, 
and  then  go  and  get  yourself  fixed  up.  Do," 

I  began  silently  on  the  bottom  box,  cut  the  string, 
removed  the  cover,  and  from  beneath  the  tissue-paper 
drew  out  a  red  flannelette  bag. 

"  It's  another  plateau,"  I  said  wearily  before  I  un- 
pulled  the  draw-string.  I  had  seven  already. 

"  A  plateau !  From  the  Elmer  Scotts ! "  She 
tossed  the  cards  over  to  me  contemptuously.  "  That 
girl  visited  me  for  two  weeks  before  I  was  married. 
They  have  loads.  A  plateau!  Only  the  six-fifty  size 
at  that,  and  —  how  disgusting  —  marked!" 

I  didn't  know  the  Scotts  from  Adam.  Half  my 
presents  were  from  Edith's  friends.  I  didn't  see  why 
the  Scotts  should  give  me  anything. 

"  Why,  they  were  invited  to  the  reception,  my 
dear !  "  said  Edith,  scandalised.  "  Come,  pass  it  over ! 
Here  goes  for  three  hundred  and  seventy-two,"  and 
she  tore  off  a  little  number  from  a  sheet  of  others, 
touched  it  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue  and  slapped  it 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      207 

on  to  the  face  of  the  plateau.  She  listed  it  under  S 
in  a  small  book  and  placed  it  with  my  seven  other 
plateaus  on  the  silver  table.  I  hadn't  liked  putting 
them  all  together.  "  But,  nonsense,"  Edith  had  said. 
"  Don't  you  see,  little  simpleton,  if  they  are  together, 
people  can  tell  how  many  plateaus  you  have  at  a 
glance?  My  goodness,  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
two  presents  so  far  and  three  more  days  yet !  I'll  bet 
you  get  five  hundred.  Dear  me,  Lucy,"  she  broke 
off,  "  there  come  your  bridesmaids.  Do  go  and  change 
your  dress.  Put  on  the  embroidered  mulle ;  and  hurry, 
child." 

I  suppose  my  blue  checked  gingham  did  look  faded 
and  plain,  but  I  went  to  my  room  with  a  great  swell 
ing  loyalty  in  my  heart  for  every  plain  thing  in  the 
world.  I  hung  my  blue  gingham  in  the  closet  almost 
tenderly.  Already  my  wedding  costume  was  there, 
staring  at  me  from  the  corner  —  shining  satin  and  ex 
pensive  lace,  little  sachet  bags  sewed  into  the  lining, 
and,  on  the  belt  inside,  the  name  in  gold  letters  of 
one  of  the  most  fashionable  dressmakers  in  New  York. 
I  was  gazing  at  it,  wishing  with  all  my  heart  that  I 
hadn't  got  to  take  the  place  of  the  tissue-paper  now; 
stuffed  into  the  waist  and  sleeves,  when  my  sister-in- 
law  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Hurry,  Bobbie,"  she  said.  "  Hurry,  do.  Your 
bridesmaids  are  all  here  and  the  Leonard  Jacksons 
have  brought  over  the  John  Percivals  in  their  car. 
Don't  forget  the  Jacksons  gave  you  the  dozen  silver 
coquilholders,  and  the  Percivals  the  Dresden  service 
plates.  Be  nice  to  Mrs.  Percival.  She's  going  to  be 
one  of  your  neighbours  next  year.  I  must  run  along. 
They'll  be  wondering."  She  started  to  go,  but  turned 


back  and  added,  "  Why  in  the  world  aren't  you  more 
enthusiastic,  Lucy?  You  ought  to  be  the  happiest 
girl  in  the  world,  /  think.  I  never  saw  a  more  elabo 
rate  trousseau  or  a  costlier  layout  of  presents  in  my 
life.  I  can't  imagine  what  else  you  want!" 

A  maid  knocked  outside  the  door  and  spoke  to 
Edith.  I  didn't  hear  the  message,  but  Edith  gave  a 
little  exclamation  and  hurried  away. 

"  The  King  Georges  or  the  Kaiser  Wilhelms  in  their 
aeroplane,  no  doubt,"  I  muttered,  and  made  a  face  at 
my  wedding-gown  as  I  yanked  down  my  embroidered 
mulle. 

I  am  going  to  skip  the  details  of  my  wedding  —  the 
broiling  condition  of  the  thermometer,  the  sweltering 
bridesmaids,  the  crowds,  the  push,  the  funny  grown-up 
feeling  in  my  heart  when  Alec  and  Tom  kissed  me 
good-bye  so  gently,  the  joy  when  the  train  finally  gave 
a  snort  and  a  jerk,  and  I  knew  that  Edith  in  her  pearls 
and  satin  couldn't  possibly  follow.  I  am  so  anxious 
to  describe  the  funny  old  brown  house  that  Will  and  I 
leased  in  the  shadow  of  chemistry  buildings,  law- 
schools,  and  dormitories  down  here  in  this  university 
town,  and  the  life  —  the  curious,  happy,  contented 
life  that  I  drifted  into  —  that  I  do  not  want  to  waste 
any  time. 

The  week  after  my  wedding  Edith  sailed  with  Ruth 
for  four  months  in  Europe.  That  is  how  it  happened 
that  she  wasn't  on  the  ground  to  superintend  the  choice 
of  a  residence  for  Will  and  me.  I  knew  very  well 
that  Edith  would  never  have  countenanced  for  a  min 
ute  the  house  that  we  finally  decided  to  rent  for  the 
winter.  It  was  a  brown,  square  affair,  a  door  in  the 
middle  with  a  window  on  each  side,  not  colonial  in 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      209 

the  least,  nondescript  as  it  could  be,  with  a  slate  French 
roof.  Will  and  I  thought  it  would  answer  the  pur 
pose,  however  —  even  though  the  bathtub  was  tin  — 
and  moved  into  it  when  the  brick  sidewalk  was  sprin 
kled  with  yellow  maple-leaves,  and  the  gutter  was  col 
lecting  dry  ones. 

I  didn't  know  a  soul  in  the  town.  I  didn't  know 
the  name  of  a  single  street  except  our  own.  I  didn't 
know  where  to  go  to  buy  even  a  spool  of  thread.  But 
I  wasn't  homesick  —  oh,  no,  I  wasn't  homesick.  You 
see  I  had  forgotten  the  joy  of  my  own  kitchen  and 
pantry;  I  had  forgotten  what  a  collander  looked  like; 
I  had  forgotten  how  sweet  a  row  of  cups  are  hanging 
by  their  handles,  underneath  a  shelf  edged  with  scal 
loped  paper! 

I  enjoyed  acting  as  my  own  mistress  too;  though  I 
I  am  sure  if  Edith  had  known  what  I  was  up  to,  she 
would  have  left  all  the  pleasures  of  Paris  to  set  me  in 
the  right  path.  For  I  didn't  even  unpack  some  of 
my  wedding  presents.  They  didn't  fit  in  very  well 
with  Will's  furniture  which  he  had  freighted  down 
from  the  old  white-pillared  house  in  Hilton,  and  every 
sliver  of  which  I  simply  adored.  It  wasn't  colonial 
furniture,  understand,  which  is  so  fashionable  nowa 
days,  but  black  walnut  of  the  seventies  —  high-backed 
armchairs  and  sofas  and  marble-topped  bedroom  tables. 
There  were  funny  old  steel  engravings  of  the  United 
States  Senate,  battle  scenes,  and  Abraham  Lincoln, 
besides  some  big  heavy  bronzes  that  Will  told  me  were 
very  valuable.  The  sideboard  was  black  walnut  like 
everything  else  and  Edith's  elaborate  silver  service 
made  it  look  so  out-of-date  that  I  put  on  it  instead  my 
own  mother's  old  coffee-pot  —  the  one  that  used  to  be 


210      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

so  heavy  for  me  —  and  our  old-fashioned  silver  water 
pitcher  with  four  high  goblets  to  match.  I  didn't  even 
unlock  my  enormous  chest  of  silver.  Alec  had  let 
me  take  from  the  safe  at  home  the  forks  and  darling 
thin  spoons  and  knives  that  had  always  been  in  our 
family.  It  was  like  sheltering  old  friends  under  my 
roof  to  care  for  them  again. 

Edith  would  have  hated  the  life  I  drifted  into.  She 
would  have  called  it  "  a  mere  existence  "  or  "  worse 
than  the  frontier."  From  September  to  February,  I 
didn't  go  to  a  single  luncheon,  tea,  or  bridge !  People 
had  called  —  members  of  the  faculty,  I  suppose,  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know,  for  the  cards  were  mere  names  to 
me  and  I  was  always  out  when  they  were  left.  You 
see  one  evening  I  had  run  across  something  in  a 
pamphlet  of  Will's  on  our  living-room  table  that  set 
me  to  thinking.  The  pamphlet  was  a  sort  of  bulletin 
of  lectures  given  by  different  professors  in  the  col 
lege.  There  was  a  star  after  several  of  the  announce 
ments  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  it  said,  "  Open  to 
the  Public."  I  hadn't  a  notion  whether  it  was  the 
right  thing  for  me  to  go  to  them  or  not,,  but  one  rainy 
afternoon  I  hunted  up  Tyler  Hall  and  Room  twenty- 
one  on  the  second  floor  and  slunk  into  one  of  the  back 
chairs  at  five  minutes  to  three,  very  much  frightened 
,and  wondering  if  I  would  be  turned  out.  The  lecture 
wras  the  second  or  third  of  a  series  given  by  a  Dr. 
Van  Breeze  on  something  in  philosophy.  I  didn't  un 
derstand  more  than  about  two  sentences,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  question  my  right  to  sit  there,  and  I  felt  ten 
times  more  comfortable  than  I  ever  had  at  bridge 
parties  in  Hilton. 

You  see  I  have  never  been  to  college.     Although  I 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      211 

hated  boarding-school  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  I 
have  always  had  a  sneaking  idea  I  might  have  done 
better  at  college.  I  always  liked  to  study  and  when 
I  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  Juliet  —  who,  though 
the  best  and  staunchest  girl  in  the  world,  was  never 
very  brainy  —  was  soaring  above  me  in  knowledge, 
I  used  to  be  a  little  envious.  It  may  seem  odd  to  you 
for  a  married  woman  to  be  trotting  across  a  campus 
every  other  day  to  attend  lectures  in  class-rooms,  as 
if  she  were  an  undergraduate,  but  after  my  first  plunge 
into  that  discourse  on  philosophy  by  Dr.  Van  Breeze 
I  never  missed  a  single  lecture  in  the  series.  I  went 
the  next  week  and  the  next  and  the  next;  and  also 
bolted  bravely  into  a  series  of  French  lectures  every 
Monday  afternoon.  I  liked  just  to  sit  and  breathe 
the  air  of  those  class-rooms.  I  liked  the  long  line 
of  blackboards  covered  with  unintelligible  words  that 
belonged  to  a  previous  lecture,  the  row  of  felt  erasers, 
the  smell  of  dry  chalk-dust.  I  liked  sitting  in  those 
studious-looking  chairs  with  a  big  arm  on  one  side. 
It  was  as  strange  and  foreign  as  a  new  country  in 
those  class-rooms,  with  the  bare  maple-tree  branches 
grazing  the  window-pane,  and  in  my  ears  the  music 
of  the  French  language  which  I  hadn't  heard  since  I 
left  high  school.  I  was  a  thousand,  thousand  miles 
away  from  the  atmosphere  of  limousines  and  Edith, 
five  hundred  and  two  wedding  presents,  and  a  wed 
ding-dress  that  cost  two  hundred  dollars.  It  was  like 
a  distant  echo  from  another  world  when  I  received  an 
invitation  for  a  bridge  one  day  from  a  Mrs.  Perci- 
val.  It  had  completely  escaped  my  mind  that  she  was 
one  of  the  individuals  who  had  given  me  a  dozen 
Dresden  plates.  Even  if  I  had  recollected  I  shouldn't 


212      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

have  accepted  the  invitation.  Why  should  I  put  hand 
cuffs  on  myself  again,  now  I  was  once  free  from  a 
bondage  that  I  loathed?  I  sent  a  very  proper  note 
of  regret  to  Mrs.  Percival,  pleading  a  previous  en 
gagement.  It  was  true.  An  old  white-haired  gentle 
man  whom  I  often  met  at  Dr.  Van  Breeze's  lectures 
had  asked  me  to  sit  beside  him  that  particular  after 
noon  at  three  o'clock  in  Tyler  Hall. 

I  didn't  tell  Will  about  the  lectures.  He  was  us 
ually  busy  at  the  medical  school  daytimes,  and  I  was 
always  at  home  when  he  arrived  at  six.  I  was 
ashamed  to  confess  to  Will  that  I,  who  never  studied 
a  science  in  my  life,  was  presuming  to  attend  lectures 
on  the  Geology  of  Fuels  and  Fluxes  (for  I  took  in 
everything  that  was  starred),  the  Influence  of  Science 
upon  Religion,  and  something  about  the  Law  of  Falling 
Spheres.  I  hated  to  have  him  laugh  at  me,  so  I  kept 
absolutely  quiet  on  the  subject  of  my  ridiculous  search 
for  knowledge.  I  didn't  even  tell  him  about  my  new 
acquaintances. 

The  white-haired  old  gentleman  and  I  developed 
quite  a  friendship.  Every  Thursday  we  used  to  walk 
home  together  as  far  as  the  Library,  and  he  would 
explain  things  in  the  lecture  that  I  didn't  understand. 
He  called  me  Pandora  in  fun  because  I  was  so  inquisi 
tive  and  couldn't  bear  to  let  things  unknown  to  me 
alone.  Once  in  a  while  a  queer  little  man  in  a  frock 
coat  and  a  soft  artist's  tie  would  join  us,  and  a  woman 
• —  a  Miss  Avery  in  an  ugly  brown  suit  and  a  stiff  linen 
collar  like  a  man's.  They  used  to  think  that  my  ques 
tions  were  the  drollest  things  they  had  ever  heard  in 
their  lives;  but  I  couldn't  help  but  feel  that  the  sweet 
old  man  took  quite  a  fancy  to  me.  He  gave  me  a 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      213 

book  once  on  philosophy,  by  a  famous  scholar,  and  an 
other  time  he  asked  me  to  come  to  his  house  to  meet 
his  wife.  Naturally  I  didn't  go,  for  I  wouldn't  have 
let  any  one  guess  I  was  Mrs.  William  Ford  Maynard 
for  all  the  wives  in  creation.  It  was  a  funny  exist 
ence  to  drift  into,  wasn't  it  —  cake  and  snow-pudding 
in  the  morning  (I  loved  to  mess  about  in  the  kitchen)  ; 
economics,  geology,  philosophy  and  French  in  the  af 
ternoon  ;  and  evenings  our  open  fire  and  cribbage  with 
dear  old  Will,  by  the  light  of  our  big  bronze  lamp? 
It  was  a  happy  existence  too. 

I  found  something  in  those  lectures  of  Dr.  Van 
Breeze's  which  I  had  lost  a  long  time  ago.  It  was  a 
precious  thing  and  at  first  I  didn't  recognise  it.  You 
see  every  once  in  a  while  Dr.  Van  Breeze  would  say 
something  that  was  better  than  anything  I  had  evei 
heard  in  any  church.  I  wasn't  sure  that  I  quite  un 
derstood  him,  so  I  asked  the  old  gentleman.  It  was 
a  great  eye-opener  to  me  when  I  learned  that  such  a 
great  thinker  as  Dr.  Van  Breeze  had  a  religion. 

"  Why,  even  /  don't  believe  anything,"  I  told  my 
white-haired  friend. 

His  little  eyes  twinkled  at  that.  "  And  proud  of  it 
too,  I'll  wager,"  he  laughed. 

I  blushed,  for  I  think  I  did  feel  rather  superior,  just 
as  I  had  felt  wise  when  I  knew  there  was  no  Santa 
Claus.  Juliet  and  I  had  talked  quite  a  good  deal  about 
religion.  She  took  a  course  in  "  Bible  "  at  college, 
which  seemed  to  knock  all  the  inspiration  and  the  mira 
cles  out  of  it  for  her;  and  when  it  came  to  her  course 
in  philosophy,  well — she  said  that  she  thought  that 
ministers  were  a  very  credulous  lot  of  men.  She  said 
you  couldn't  argue  with  them  because  they  always 


214      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

wanted  to  prove  things  by  quoting  the  Bible,  while 
there  existed  simply  dozens  of  other  worthy  reference 
books.  She  said  that  she  preferred  to  rely  on  great 
scholars  and  philosophers  for  truth,  rather  than  on 
men  who  only  looked  in  one  book  for  information. 
Naturally  I  didn't  want  to  keep  on  believing  in  a  fal 
lacy,  simply  because  I  had  never  been  to  college. 
Childish  as  it  may  seem  at  first,  I  used  to  feel  awfully 
unanchored  not  to  say  my  prayers  at  night;  but  of 
course  such  a  custom  was  silly,  if  I  really  was  an  un 
believer.  I  told  my  white-haired  old  friend  in  de 
fence  of  my  shocking  statement  (which  by  the  way 
didn't  shock  him  at  all)  that  he  might  laugh,  but  any 
how  I  was  backed  up  by  scholars  and  philosophers, 
who  since  the  year  one  had  all  been  busy  trying  to 
prove  that  there  wasn't  anything  in  religion  to  be 
lieve. 

"  Why,  my  dear  mistaken  Pandora,"  smiled  my 
friend.  "  On  the  contrary,  philosophers  have  all  been 
trying  to  prove  there  is  something  to  believe,  of  some 
nature  or  other." 

"  Really  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  It  would  be  a  big  relief 
to  me  —  but  are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Benedict  Graham?"  he  re 
plied.  Of  course  I  had  —  every  one  has.  He's  at 
the  head  of  the  philosophy  department  at  this  univer 
sity.  The  next  week  my  friend  presented  me  with 
Benedict  Graham's  "  Introduction  to  Philosophy."  I 
thought  such  a  book  would  be  way  beyond  my  under 
standing,  but  it  wasn't.  I  used  to  read  a  chapter  or 
two  by  myself  and  then  talk  it  over  with  my  friend 
afterward.  He  made  everything  very  simple  to  me 
and  seemed  besides  to  be  an  awfully  well-informed 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      215 

old  gentleman.  I  didn't  think  even  Juliet  could  scoff 
at  him,  though  he  did  believe  a  lot  of  things.  After 
a  week  or  two  I  felt  rather  ashamed  at  having  so 
loftily  pronounced  myself  an  Unbeliever.  I  am  no 
such  thing!  I  can't  tell  you  exactly  what  I  am.  I 
really  don't  know.  But  so  long  as  minds  ten  times 
bigger  and  greater  than  mine  (like  Dr.  Van  Breeze 
and  Benedict  Graham,  and  lots  of  those  learned  old 
Greeks  and  Germans)  so  long  as  such  intellects  en 
tertain  the  idea  that  there  is  something  of  some  na 
ture  to  believe  in,  I  tell  you,  I'm  going  to  believe  in  it 
with  all  my  might  and  main. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

T^DITH  didn't  remain  in  Europe  as  long  as  she  ex- 
JCr  pected.  She  dropped  down  upon  us  one  night, 
with  Ruth  trailing  on  behind,  as  unexpectedly  as  a 
falling  star.  I  had  just  had  a  letter  that  said  that 
she  and  Ruth  and  Alec  —  my  brother  had  since  joined 
them  —  were  all  installed  in  a  fashionable  hotel  in 
Paris  for  six  weeks.  You  can  imagine  my  surprise 
when  Edith  and  Ruth  appeared  at  my  front  door. 

Will  and  I  were  playing  cribbage.  He  had  laid 
down  his  big  book;  I  had  put  aside  my  sewing;  and 
the  four  little  pegs  on  the  cribbage-board  had  already 
run  the  course  twice.  We  always  play  five  games  of 
cribbage  every  night  before  we  go  upstairs  to  bed. 
We  call  it  our  sleeping-powder.  Will  had  just  dealt 
the  cards  —  it  was  almost  nine  o'clock  —  when  the 
door-bell  rang.  Old  Delia  had  creaked  up  to  bed  ages 
ago,  so  Will  went  to  the  door  himself.  I  didn't  bother 
even  to  uncurl  my  feet  —  I  was  sitting  Turkish  fash 
ion  —  for  I  thought  it  must  be  the  expressman.  I 
yawned  and  waited. 

I  heard  Will  say,  "  Hello !  hello !  Well,  well,  of  all 
• —  When  did  you  —  Where  — "  and  a  moment  later, 
resplendent  in  a  long  sealskin  coat,  a  sealskin  hat,  a 
perfectly  enormous  muff  and  a  gold  chain  purse, 
Edith  pushed  into  our  hall,  eyes  simply  sparkling  and 
cheeks  aglow. 

"Hello,  Turtle-doves!"  she  exclaimed.  "Hello, 
Brother  Will!  Hello,  Mrs.  Bobbikins!" 

216 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      217 

I  started  up. 

"Of  all  things!"  I  ejaculated. 

Edith  kissed  me  through  a  prickly  veil.  Ruth 
kissed  me  too.  Ruth  was  simply  overwhelming  in  a 
huge  blue  hat  with  not  less  than  six  blue  ostrich 
plumes.  They  both  kissed  Will.  We  all  began  to 
laugh. 

"  We  knew  you'd  be  surprised,"  said  Ruth. 

"  But  I  thought  — "  I  began. 

"Where's  Alec?"  asked  Will. 

"  Why  in  the  world  — "  I  tucked  in. 

"Listen!  Wait!"  commanded  Edith.  "Til  ex 
plain.  We  thought,"  she  said,  gurgling  with  mirth, 
"  it  would  be  great  fun  to  surprise  you,  so  — " 

"  Alec  got  a  cable  last  week  — "  put  in  Ruth. 

"  From  my  dad,"  Edith  went  on.  "  Business ! 
Wasn't  it  disgusting  when  we  weren't  planning  to  sail 
for  six  weeks  ?  Al  had  to  go  right  on  to  Chicago  — - 
and  The  Homestead — " 

"We  had  the  bridal  suite  on  the  Mauretania!"  I 
heard  Ruth  exclaim  to  Will. 

" —  isn't  open,"  finished  Edith.  "  The  servants  are 
scattered  to  the  four  winds.  I've  written  to  them, 
but  of  course  they  haven't  had  a  chance  to  open  things 
up  yet.  So  we  thought  it  would  be  fun  to  — " 

"  To  pop  in  on  you !  "  giggled  Ruth. 

"Can  you  put  us  up?"  snapped  Edith. 

"  Of  course!  How  nice!  "  I  tried  to  say  cordially, 
with  the  image  of  my  cold,  unused,  north  guest-room 
dancing  before  my  eyes,  the  floor  covered  with  news 
papers,  two  cut-glass  punch-bowls,  thirteen  berry 
dishes  and  seven  vases.  "  Of  course  I  can  put  you  up. 
Take  off  your  things." 


218      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Will  produced  two  dining-room  chairs  and  Edith 
and  Ruth  buried  them  in  no  time  beneath  a  stack  of 
coats,  hats  and  muffs.  Edith  was  gowned  —  slick  as 
a  black  suede  glove  —  in  a  tight-fitting,  broadcloth, 
one-piece  dress,  Irish  lace  at  neck  and  wrists.  Ruth's 
new  Parisian  hair  was  simply  glorious.  They  strutted 
into  our  comfortable  living-room  like  two  peacocks, ' 
Edith  surveying  the  walls  and  ceilings  as  if  she  were 
examining  the  dome  of  the  Boston  State-house. 

"  So  this  is  where  you  coo !  "  she  said  in  her  horrid 
patronising  manner.  Imagine  Dr.  William  Maynard 
of  the  medical  department  of  one  of  the  biggest  uni 
versities  in  the  country  cooing!  I  blushed  for  Will. 
He  pushed  up  a  chair.  It  chanced  to  be  one  of  Fa 
ther's  old  morocco  leather  armchairs  I  had  found  in  the 
storeroom  at  home.  Edith  made  opera-glasses  of  her 
two  hands,  and  pretended  to  gaze  intently  at  the  poor 
old  piece  of  furniture. 

"  Hello,  old  friend !  "  she  said,  and  made  a  mock 
salute.  "  You  look  familiar.  Back  into  service 
again,  hey  ?  '  Comfy  '  anyhow !  "  she  finished  and  set 
tled  into  it. 

"  What  sort  of  a  passage  was  it?  "  asked  Will,  and 
for  the  next  half-hour  we  listened  to  an  account  of  a 
perfectly  disgusting  customs  officer  in  New  York,  who 
made  Edith  pay  one  hundred  and  ninety-five  dollars 
on  a  half-dozen  mere  gowns  that  already  were  simply 
worn  to  shreds. 

It  was  when  Will  had  gone  to  the  kitchen  for 
some  water  that  Edith  leaned  forward  and  said  to 
me: 

"  How'd  you  happen  to  take  this  house,  my  dear  ? 
And  don't  you  dress  for  dinner,  Lucy?" 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      219 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  this?  It's  short  and  I  can  hook  it 
up  myself." 

"  I  just  knew,"  chimed  in  my  own  sister  Ruth, 
"  that  Lucy  would  be  one  of  those  to  get  slack  after 

she  was  once  married.     Now  I've  always  said  that 
/ " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  broke  in  Edith  in  a  sudden  burst 
of  laughter,  "  that  there  were  any  houses  left  nowa 
days  that  had  those  funny  old-fashioned  storm-doors 
that  you  hook  on  every  winter." 

"  Trust  Lucy  to  pick  out  the  oldest  shack  in  the 
town,"  tucked  in  Ruth,  touching  the  surface  of  her 
perfect  coiffure  with  light  fingers,  and  glancing  side 
ways  at  herself  in  an  old  gilt-framed  mirror  on  the 
wall. 

"  By  the  way,  Lucy,"  Edith  added,  piling  it  on,  I 
thought,  a  bit  too  thick,  "  people  aren't  using  doilies 
under  ornaments  any  more.  Where  are  all  those 
stunning  plateaus  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,"  I  laughed,  bound  to  be  good-natured, 
"  I'd  completely  forgotten  the  plateaus.  They  must 
be  in  one  of  the  barrels  we  haven't  opened." 

"  Haven't  opened !  I  never  saw  any  one  like  you. 
Haven't  opened!  It  certainly  is  a  good  thing  that 
I've  come  home." 

It  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  I  took  Edith  and 
Ruth  up  to  the  guest-room  in  which  I  had  put  one  of 
Will's  black  walnut  bedroom  sets. 

"If  I'd  only  known  you  were  coming!"  I  began 
going  up  the  stairs  trying  to  explain.  "  The  bureau 
is  chuck-full  of  silver  things  —  we  ought  to  have  a 
safe.  And  the  closet  —  all  my  good  dresses  are  there. 
We  have  so  little  closet-room  in  this  house.  In  the 


220      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

morning  I'll  clear  it  out.  I  know  you'd  like  separate 
beds  too,  but  when  Will's  things  were  all  unpacked 
there  wasn't  room  for  much  new  furniture.  And  I'm 
sorry,  Edith,  that  you  haven't  a  bath  connected.  We 
have  only  one  bathroom  in  the  entire  house  and  even 
that—" 

Edith  wouldn't  let  me  finish.  We  were  in  the  guest 
room  now.  Her  eyes  were  on  the  cut-glass  in  the 
corner. 

"  I  ought  never  to  have  gone  to  Europe,"  she 
announced.  "  Never  in  this  world !  " 

I  wished  she  had  never  come  home,  and  when  I 
kissed  her  good-night,  all  the  old  rancour  and  rebel 
lion,  dormant  for  so  long,  was  raging  in  my  heart. 
I  stole  downstairs  after  I  was  undressed,  pulled  out 
Edith's  silver  service  from  underneath  the  stairs  and 
put  it  on  the  sideboard;  I  unlocked  Edith's  chest  of 
silver,  and  began  laying  the  breakfast  table  with  the 
horns-of -plenty;  I  dragged  out  some  elaborate  break 
fast  napkins;  I  hauled  down  from  the  top  shelf  of  the 
pantry  a  Coalport  breakfast-set.  At  one  A.M.,  when 
I  was  crawling  back  stealthily  to  our  room,  I  had  to 
pass  the  guest-chamber  door.  I  heard  voices,  and 
stopped  a  moment. 

"  It's  human  nature  for  a  man,  single  or  married, 
to  prefer  a  woman  in  pretty  clothes,  whoever  she  is," 
said  Edith. 

"Of  course,"  Ruth  agreed.  "  When  she  came  in 
to  say  good-night  did  you  see  the  horrid  old  red 
worsted  bedroom  slippers  she  had  on  ?  " 

"  And  moreover,"  Edith  went  on,  "  a  man  likes  an 
attractive  house  —  pretty  pictures,  pretty  ornaments, 
a  place  where  he  is  proud  to  bring  his  friends." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      221 

"  Naturally." 

"  A  man  likes  to  be  proud  of  his  wife  too,"  went  on 
the  sage,  "  proud  of  her  friends,  of  her  place  in  so 
ciety.  Now  Lucy  —  absolutely  no  social-sense  —  not 
a  spark.  No  doubt,  if  she's  made  any  friends  at  all, 
they're  the  grocery-man  and  the  seamstress,  or  the 
woman  who  washes  her  hair." 

Ruth  giggled. 

"  Now  you,  Ruth,"  Edith  pursued,  "  are  a  girl  after 
my  own  heart.  You  are  the  kind  to  be  the  wife  of  a 
famous  man.  You  could  be  Mrs.  William  Maynard 
with  the  right  sort  of  go." 

I  had  to  smile  at  the  thought  of  Ruth  and  Will. 
Will  hates  false  things  —  puffs  and  brilliantine ;  he 
hates  fluffy  negligees,  and  silly,  high-heeled  unwalk- 
able  shoes;  he  hates  fuss  and  feathers.  I  passed  on 
down  the  hall. 

"  It  will  take  more  than  Edith  Campbell  and  my 
young  sister  Ruth  to  disturb  me,  I  guess,"  I  said  to 
myself  as  I  turned  out  several  flaring  gas-jets  in  the 
hall  and  bathroom,  left  by  those  two  extravagant 
creatures  to  burn  all  night. 

Edith  awoke  the  next  morning  armoured  for  bat 
tle.  I  could  see  it  in  her  eyes  and  feel  it  in  her  man 
ner.  I  knew  it  was  to  be  no  slight  skirmish,  but  a 
well-thought-out  and  carefully-planned  campaign.  I 
knew  it  was  to  be  a  serious  engagement  because  neither 
she  nor  Ruth  criticised  a  single  thing  for  the  next 
two  days.  If  they  were  shocked  and  surprised,  I 
knew  it  only  by  raised  eyebrows,  critical  smiles  or 
covert  glances.  I  hated  their  silence.  I  felt  as  if 
the  entire  foundation  of  my  life  was  stealthily  being 
honeycombed  with  tunnels,  laid  with  bombs  and  dyna- 


222      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

mite,  and  I  wondered  a  little  uncomfortably  when 
Edith  would  light  the  fuse.  Edith  is  wonderful  in 
some  ways,  as  you  know.  At  a  hotel  or  on  a  steamer 
she  catches  on  to  the  right  people  to  know  within  the 
first  twenty-four  hours,  and  by  the  third  day  she's 
playing  bridge  with  them.  As  soon  as  ever  her  half- 
dozen  pieces  of  baggage  had  arrived,  she  donned  a 
Paquin  three-piece  velvet  suit  and  set  out  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Percival.  That  night  the  explosion  took  place. 

"  I  called  on  Mrs.  Percival  this  afternoon,"  she  be 
gan  after  dinner.  "  She  says,  Lucy,  that  you  never 
returned  her  call." 

Will  had  gone  to  a  lecture  that  evening.  Ruth  was 
playing  solitaire  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"  Has  Mrs.  Percival  called  on  me?  I  didn't  realise 
it,"  I  replied. 

"  Not  only  has  Mrs.  Percival  called,  but  every  one 
else  who  should.  That  impossible  servant  of  yours 
said  that  all  these  people  had  called."  Edith  took 
down  the  brass  jardiniere  where  I  deposit  all  my 
visiting-cards.  "  She  said  that  you  were  never  in 
afternoons  and  had  not  seen  one  of  them.  Where 
under  the  heavens  were  you,  Lucy?  " 

I  felt  ashamed  to  tell  Edith  about  the  lectures,  so 
I  said  instead: 

"  Oh,  anywhere  —  walking,  shopping  —  anywhere. 
I  never  stay  in  afternoons.  I  can't  bear  to." 

"How  many  of  those  calls  have  you  returned?" 
cross-examined  my  sister-in-law. 

"  Well  —  I  am  going  to  return  them  all,"  I  began. 
"  They're  such  strangers  to  me  that  I've  been  putting 
it  off.  You  know  how  I  hate  making  calls  anyway. 
But  of  course  — " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      223 

Edith  interrupted  me. 

"  The  people  in  this  town  are  the  ones  connected 
with  the  university.  I  have  always  heard  that. 
You've  had  every  opportunity  to  know  them. 
They've  all  called  on  account  of  Will.  You've  sim 
ply  thrown  away  chance  upon  chance.  Here  are  the 
Philemon  Omsteds'  cards.  Mrs.  Percival  says  that 
Dr.  Omsted  is  awfully  queer  —  kind  of  a  socialist — > 
but  that  Mrs.  Omsted's  musicales  are  the  selectest 
things  given.  Here  are  Mrs.  Daniel  Haynes  McClel- 
lan's  cards,  the  Bernkapps,  Madame  Gauthier.  I 
found  out  from  Mrs.  Percival,  indirectly  of  course, 
that  all  these  people  are  in  things.  Mrs.  Benedict 
Graham  —  even  she  has  called  on  you.  And  Mrs. 
Percival  says  that  she  was  a  Granville  —  daughter  of 
President  Emeritus  Granville.  Dr.  Graham  is  an  aw 
fully  prominent  man  himself.  Surely  you've  heard 
of  Benedict  Graham,  Lucy.  Surely — ' 

"Of  course!"  I  interrupted.  "Every  one  has, 
Edith,  and  I'm  reading  his  book,  but  I'd  be  fright 
ened  to  death  to  go  up  and  pull  the  Benedict  Grahams' 
bell.  I  couldn't!" 

"  You  ought  to  be  married  to  a  clerk  or  a  barber, 
and  then  you  wouldn't  need  to.  I  should  hate  to 
think  I  had  married  a  man  whom  I  couldn't  live  up 
to.  Every  one  has  heard  of  Will.  He  has  been 
talked  about  all  over  the  country.  But  what  about 
his  wife?  Who  is  she?"  Edith's  words  were  be 
ginning  to  cut  now  and  I  bit  my  lip.  "  There  was 
a  tea  this  very  afternoon  to  which  Mrs.  William  May- 
nard  ought  to  have  been  invited.  Were  you  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Of  course  you  weren't,  nor  last  week  to  a  musi- 


224      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

cale  that  Mrs.  Omsted  gave,  and  I'll  bet  you  had  noth 
ing  whatsoever  to  do  with  the  Charity  Bazaar  that 
the  younger  women  in  the  university  set  get  up  every 
Christmas.  Do  you  think  a  man  wants  to  be 
married  to  a  person  who  is  not  received  —  absolutely 
ignored,  as  if  something  was  the  matter  with  her? 
Whom  in  the  world  do  you  know  here,  anyway? 
Any  one  at  all?" 

Pictures  of  the  little  man  with  the  soft  tie,  the  dear 
white-haired  old  gentleman  whose  name  I  did  not  even 
know,  and  Miss  Avery,  all  impossible  I  knew  to  Edith, 
flashed  before  my  eyes.  So  I  shook  my  head  and 
Edith  went  on. 

"  And  the  house  —  it's  simply  impossible !  Such  a 
location!  Why,  no  one  lives  in  this  part  of  town. 
You  would  think  that  Will  couldn't  afford  anything 
better,  but  he  can.  You  ought  to  have  two  maids. 
And  why  under  the  heavens  all  this  old  furniture? 
People  don't  use  black  walnut  any  more,  and  that  old 
narrow,  square  dining-room  table  is  simply  beyond 
words !  " 

"  And  you  have  no  butler's  pantry  nor  back  stairs," 
put  in  Ruth. 

"  And  you  ought  to  make  your  maid  wear  black 
afternoons." 

"  And  turn  down  the  beds,"  added  Ruth. 

"  It's  my  house,"  I  began.  "  If  you  don't  like 
it — "  I  got  up  quickly  and  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Oh,  come,  Bobbikins,"  Edith  said  in  her  persist 
ently  cheerful  way.  "  Don't  get  cross.  I  was  only 
trying  to  be  helpful."  Then  she  went  on:  "I  found 
this  on  the  floor,  by  your  desk.  I  couldn't  help  but 
see  it.  It's  an  invitation  for  dinner  from  Mrs.  Bene- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      225 

diet  Graham.  I  can't  understand  why  she  invites  you 
if  you've  never  returned  her  call,  but  of  course  it's 
on  account  of  Will.  I  can't  imagine  your  not  ac 
cepting  this  invitation  and  yet  I  heard  you  say  that 
next  Thursday,  the  sixth,  the  very  evening  of  this 
dinner,  you  and  Will  had  tickets  for  the  theatre." 

"  Yes,  we've  been  planning  to  go  on  that  particu 
lar  night  for  three  weeks.  It's  a  little  secret  anni 
versary  of  ours,"  I  said  sullenly;  "and  we're  going 
too.  Why  should  you,  Edith,  come  here  and  try  to 
upset  the  whole  universe?  We're  happy.  Will  is 
satisfied.  He  loves  things  simple.  I  wish  you'd 
leave  us  alone.  Will  doesn't  care  a  scrap  about  so 
ciety,  and  I  hate  it,  hate  it,  hate  it ! "  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Well,  if  there's  going  to  be  a  scene,  excuse  me, 
please,"  said  Ruth,  and  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"  If  you're  through  with  that  card-table,  please  fold 
it  up  and  put  it  in  the  closet,"  I  said  to  Ruth  with 
my  eyes  full  of  fire.  "  I  haven't  got  six  servants." 

"  Whew !  "  whistled  Ruth  and  began  gathering  up 
her  cards. 

"  I  should  think,"  calmly  went  on  Edith  like  a  re 
peating  alarm-clock,  "  you'd  like  your  husband  to  be 
proud  of  you." 

"  Oh,  please  —  please  — "  I  fired  back,  and  then 
suddenly,  too  full  to  speak,  I  turned  abruptly  and  fled 
up  the  stairs  to  my  room. 

The  sweet  darkness  enveloped  me.  I  drew  a  chair 
to  the  window.  Will  would  ask  her  to  mind  her  own 
affairs;  Will  would  talk  to  her;  Will  would  tell  her 
how  he  hated  her  mean  ambitions,  how  he  abhorred 
her  contemptible  snobbishness;  Will  would  defend 


226      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

and  stand  up  for  me ;  Will  would  fix  her !  "  Just 
wait  for  Will! "  I  said,  and  listened  for  his  step 
on  the  sidewalk  outside  and  the  sound  of  his  key  in 
the  latch.  I  heard  him  come  in  about  half  past  ten. 
It  was  almost  twelve  when  he  came  up  to  me. 

"Not  in  bed?"  he  asked  gently  and  leaned  down 
and  kissed  me.  "  Edith  was  downstairs  when  I  came 
in  and  we've  been  talking.  I  don't  know  but  what  we 
ought  to  keep  two  maids,  Bobbie  dear,"  Will  said, 
and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  struck.  Will  went  over 
and  lit  the  gas.  "  I  guess  we  might  as  well  postpone 
our  theatre  party  for  next  Thursday,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  think,  after  all,  we'd  better  go  to  the  Grahams' 
dinner.  By  the  way,"  he  broke  off,  "  didn't  you  get 
an  invitation  to  the  Omsteds'  affair  last  week?" 

"  No,  Will,  I  didn't,"  I  said  dully. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  find  time  to  pay  back  a  few  of 
those  calls  some  time  pretty  soon,  Bobbie  dear,"  he 
said  to  me.  And  that  morning  about  four  A.M.  I 
cried  myself  to  sleep. 

Edith  went  to  the  dinner  too.  She  had  Will  tele 
phone  and  fix  it  up  someway.  I  don't  know  how  nor 
I  didn't  ask.  I  was  very  miserable,  very  unhappy. 
My  heart  was  heavier  than  it  had  been  for  a  whole 
year.  "  Will  wasn't  satisfied,  Will  wasn't  proud, 
.Will  was  ashamed  of  me,"  rang  in  my  ears  from 
)  morning  till  night.  During  the  few  days  that  still 
must  be  lived  before  Thursday  the  sixth  at  seven 
o'clock,  Edith  exhibited  the  usual  kindness  and  gentle 
consideration  of  any  victor  over  the  vanquished.  I 
didn't  make  another  plea.  I  was  as  resigned  as  a 
fatalist,  and  as  unmurmuring  as  a  stoic.  I  wrote  my 
acceptance  at  Edith's  dictation  without  a  word,  and 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      227 

silently  fought  the  tears  that  came  to  my  eyes,  as  I 
sealed  the  envelope. 

"  O  Bobbie,"  said  Will  gently,  "  don't  worry  so 
about  it,  dear.  You  weren't  so  frightened  about  your 
own  wedding." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Edith.  "  And  I've  had  dinners  at 
The  Homestead  just  as  grand  as  this.  You're  simply 
out  of  training.  People  won't  notice  you  so  much 
as  you  think  anyhow.  Just  act  slowly,  and  don't  try 
to  talk.  That's  all.  I'll  be  there  and  you  can  *  lean 
on  me,  grandpa.'  You'll  be  all  right,"  she  assured 
me  grandly. 

I  couldn't  explain  to  Will  and  Edith  how  I  felt 
about  that  dinner  at  the  Grahams'.  They  wouldn't 
understand.  Of  course  I  had  been  to  Edith's  parties 
at  The  Homestead,  but  then  I  was  simply  Lucy  Vars ; 
and  now  I  was  Mrs.  William  Ford  Maynard.  Every 
body  in  Hilton  had  accepted  Lucy  Vars  long  ago  as 
a  queer,  quiet  sort  of  shy  little  mouse,  and  treated  her 
as  such.  She  was  used  to  it.  But  here,  no  one  had 
as  yet  discovered  Mrs.  William  Ford  Maynard.  She 
had  been  living  for  six,  beautiful,  unmolested  months 
in  idyllic  secretion.  But  she  had  been  run  down  at 
last,  she  must  give  herself  up  like  a  hunted  convict, 
and  by  Thursday  at  midnight  all  of  Dr.  Maynard's 
learned  associates  would  know  just  what  sort  of  in- 
tsignificant  little  person  he  had  married.  Oh,  if  only 
for  Will's  sake  I  had  been  born  clever  and  brilliant; 
if  only  I  had  possessed  a  little  of  Edith's  style; 
'Ruth's  savoir  faire.  Do  you  wonder  then,  that 
I  trembled  in  anticipation  of  this  occasion?  Ruth's 
coming-out  party,  my  wedding,  a  dozen  dinners 
of  Edith's,  were  as  doll's  tea-parties  as  compared  to 


228 

this,  when  Mrs.  William  Ford  Maynard  must  come 
forth  from  her  hiding-place  and  meet  this  test  of  a 
searching  inspection. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  faint,  sickening  feeling  in 
side  of  me  as  we  stood  waiting  for  admittance  be 
fore  the  big  colonial  house.  We  must  have  been  the 
last  ones  to  arrive.  A  babble  of  voices  in  the  draw 
ing-room  at  the  left  greeted  us  as  we  entered.  We 
walked  up  the  old  colonial  stairway,  and  into  a  big 
bedroom  at  the  top  with  a  black  walnut  bedroom  set. 
I  noticed  that  even  in  my  fright. 

"  Mercy,  child,  don't  take  off  your  gloves,"  whis 
pered  Edith  to  me. 

"  I  hate  them,"  I  said,  and  ripped  my  arms  bare. 
I  wore  a  light  blue  silk  dress  with  a  Dutch  neck,  in 
spite  of  Edith  in  her  low-cut  ball-gown  plastered  over 
with  glittering  black  spangles.  My  hair  was  done  in 
its  usual  everyday  knot  at  the  back  of  my  neck, 
bobbed  up  in  the  last  five  minutes  after  Ruth's  sixth 
attempt  at  dressing  it  in  the  "  new  way."  Edith  looked 
like  a  fashion-plate :  she  had  a  perfect  figure ;  her  neck 
is  marvellous;  she  wore  diamonds  and  a  string  of 
pearls. 

I  followed  her  down  the  stairs  very  carefully,  lest 
I  trip  in  my  little  French-heeled  satin  slippers  or  lose 
the  silly  things  altogether.  My  heart  was  in  my 
mouth.  "  What  shall  I  say  when  I  am  introduced? 
What  shall  I  say?  What  shall  I  say?  "  I  kept  think 
ing  in  a  panic  and  watched  Edith  sweep  across  the 
hall  in  her  most  impressive  manner.  I  waited  an  in 
stant.  A  minute  more  and  Will  was  announcing, 
"  And  this  is  my  wife,  Mrs.  Graham."  My  heart 
fluttered  as  it  used  to  at  parties  at  home. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      229 

The  grand  lady  smiled  upon  me.  She  took  my 
hand. 

"  So  this  is  Mrs.  William  Maynard,"  she  said.  "  I'm 
glad  you  could  come.  We  all  know  Dr.  Maynard 
so  well  —  we're  so  proud  to  have  him  one  of  us  — 
that  I  am  glad  to  meet  you."  Was  she  thinking  how 
funny  and  young  I  looked?  Was  she  saying  "  What 
a  strange  little  insignificant  bit  of  thing  indeed  for 
such  a  man  as  William  Maynard ! "  I  wished,  after 
all,  I  had  had  my  hair  marcelled. 

"  I  want  Dr.  Graham  to  meet  you,"  my  hostess 
continued  and,  leaning  over,  touched  the  great  philoso 
pher  on  the  shoulder  with  her  fan.  He  was  talking 
to  Edith.  "  Benedict,  my  dear."  He  turned.  "  Mrs. 
Maynard !  " 

I  trembled  in  my  shoes  and  raised  my  eyes. 

"  You ! "  I  gasped  and  stepped  back.  Dr.  Bene 
dict  Graham  —  the  Dr.  Benedict  Graham  —  was  no 
other  than  my  dear  sweet  old  white-haired  gentleman 
of  the  philosophical  lectures!  His  hands  went  out  to 
me  —  both  of  them  —  and  gathered  my  ten  cold  trem 
bling  fingers  in  his  warm  grasp. 

"  You  ?  "  he  repeated  with  the  sweet  light  of  rec 
ognition  in  his  eyes.  "  You !  Pandora!  Julia,"  he 
said  to  Mrs.  Graham,  "  Mrs.  Maynard  is  Pandora  of 
whom  I  have  told  you,  my  little  friend  who  takes  a 
walk  with  me  every  week.  Well  —  well,"  he  chuck 
led.  "Well  — well."  Then  to  astonished  Will  he 
exclaimed,  "  Your  wife  and  I  are  old  friends,"  and 
oh,  I  could  have  kissed  him! 

The  colour  rushed  back  into  my  cheeks.  My  hand 
was  in  Mrs.  Graham's  again,  and  when  I  looked 
around  the  room  I  found  I  stood  in  a  little  circle  — 


230      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

every  one's  eyes,  like  the  lights,  upon  me.  It  was 
like  a  surprise-party,  or  a  fairy  story,  or  some  trick 
worked  by  a  skilful  magician.  First  my  eyes  fell 
upon  Dr.  Van  Breeze;  and  then,  in  a  flash,  on  Mon 
sieur  Gauthier,  who  gave  the  French  lectures;  and 
suddenly  coming  toward  me  was  the  funny  little  man 
with  the  soft  wide  tie.  He  wore  it  even  to-night. 
He  took  my  hand  cordially  and  Will  exclaimed,  "  Do 
you  know  her  too,  Mr.  Omsted?" 

It  all  happened  in  a  minute.  I  can't  tell  it  quickly 
enough.  "  She  has  read  one  of  my  books  from  cover 
to  cover,"  I  heard  Dr.  Graham  laugh,  eyes  twinkling 
into  mine;  and  I  think  it  was  just  after  that  remark 
of  Dr.  Graham's  that  Monsieur  Gauthier  stepped  for 
ward  and  bowing  before  me  in  the  dearest,  Frenchiest 
manner  in  .the  world,  said  in  his  own  language  with 
every  one  listening,  "  I  have  never  been  presented  to 
Mrs.  Maynard,  but  if  I  am  not  mistaken  I  think  I 
have  observed  her  face  at  my  Monday  afternoon  lec 
tures.  Is  it  not  so?  Always  the  same  chair  —  third 
from  the  back,  two  removed  from  the  aisle  —  always 
the  same.  It  has  been  a  pleasure  to  see  you  there  each 
week." 

I  understood  every  word.  I  didn't  lose  a  phrase. 
The  warmth,  the  light,  those  words  in  French,  every 
body's  eyes  upon  me  acted  like  just  enough  cham 
pagne. 

"Merci,  Monsieur,"  I  dared  to  say  and  swept  him 
a  little  bow.  I  can  hear  now  my  voice  and  those  two 
little  French  words  falling  upon  the  silence  of  that 
room  like  a  noise  on  a  still  night.  I  don't  know  how 
I  ever  presumed  to  speak  in  French.  I  would  have 
thought  it  affected  in  any  one  else,  but  at  that  exult- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      231 

ant  moment  I  could  have  mimicked  Chinese.  Two 
words  in  a  foreign  language  I  know  should  not  be 
very  amazing  (any  one  could  do  it)  but  I  could  feel  a 
little  murmur  pass  among  the  people  after  I  had 
spoken  that  was  something  —  a  little  —  like  the  ap- 
.plause  at  the  theatre.  A  moment  later  the  talking  be- 
'gan  again ;  I  was  being  introduced  at  left  and  right ;  my 
own  voice  and  laughter  mingled  with  the  general  bab 
ble.  It  was  exactly  as  though  I  had  taken  my  plunge, 
come  safely  to  the  surface  and  now  was  swimming 
along  with  long  even  strokes  with  the  others  for  the 
shore.  Edith  looked  at  me  astonished.  Will  ob 
served  me  as  though  I  were  a  stranger.  Easy  words 
came  to  my  lips,  my  cheeks  burned,  and  every  one 
was  so  kind  —  so  good  to  me,  that  I  forgot  my  dress, 
my  hair  and  my  French-heeled  shoes. 

I  don't  mean  to  imply  that  I  was  the  belle  of  the 
evening.  Of  course  I  wasn't.  It  would  be  absurd 
for  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl,  married  though  she  was,  to 
come  among  learned  men  and  sages  and  have  them 
all  turning  their  attention  and  thought  upon  her. 
Even  if  she  had  been  pretty,  and  skilful  in  the  art  of 
smiles  and  glances,  which  I  am  not,  such  an  event 
would  be  amazing.  I  only  mean  to  say  that  I  didn't 
feel  awkward  nor  wonder  where  to  put  my  hands  be 
tween  the  courses.  I  was  placed  at  the  left  of  Dr. 
Graham  and  felt  as  easy  as  if  I  were  sitting  beside  my 
own  father.  The  dinner,  it  seemed,  was  in  honour  of 
Dr.  Van  Breeze  on  account  of  his  book  about  to  be 
published,  consisting  of  the  very  lectures  he  had  been 
delivering  in  Tyler  Hall.  The  talk  centred  about  the 
book  a  good  deal  and  though  I  didn't  contribute  a 
single  idea  to  the  conversation  I  understood  perfectly 


232      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

what  was  being  discussed.  But  I  do  not  think  Editfi 
enjoyed  herself.  She  was  over- jewelled,  in  the  first 
place,  and  kept  running  on  to  Dr.  Omsted,  who,  you 
know,  is  a  kind  of  socialist,  about  the  gorgeous  bridal 
suite  on  the  Mauretania,  the  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
two  dollars  duty  she  had  to  pay,  and  of  how  she 
smuggled  in  a  thousand-dollar  pearl  necklace,  until 
I  was  embarrassed. 

We  went  home  about  ten-thirty.  Just  at  the  door 
as  we  were  going  out  Mrs.  Philemon  Omsted  stopped 
me.  Will  had  me  by  the  arm.  Edith  was  just  in 
front. 

"  Mrs.  Maynard,"  she  said  to  me,  "  just  a  moment, 
please.  I  have  been  very  glad  to  meet  you.  And,  by 
the  way,  Easter  Monday  I  am  giving  a  small  musicale. 
Mrs.  Graham  is  to  pour  for  me.  I  should  be  de 
lighted  if  you  will  assist." 

I  thanked  her  quietly  (but  oh,  in  my  heart  I  could 
have  crowned  her  with  flowers)  and  passed  out  to 
our  hired  carriage. 

I  sat  in  the  middle  between  Edith  and  Will.  We 
drove  away  in  silence,  my  heart  singing,  and  my 
cheeks  warm  with  excitement.  Will  pressed  my  arm 
with  his  bare  hand  hidden  underneath  the  folds  of  my 
party-coat.  I  could  feel  his  joy.  It  was  Edith  who 
spoke  first. 

"  What  a  miserable  stuffy  little  carriage,"  she  said; 
then  after  a  moment,  "  Those  people  may  have  brains, 
but  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  such  a  lot  of  frumpily 
dressed  women  in  my  life." 

Will  leaned  forward  then,  and  said  playfully,  but 
with  a  queer  little  sure  sound  in  his  voice,  "  What  was 
your  impression  of  Mrs.  William  Maynard?  " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      233 

"Of  Bobbie?"  Edith  asked  raising  her  eyebrows, 
disgusted  with  Will's  little  streak  of  fun. 

"Of  Mrs.  William  Maynard,"  he  corrected;  then 
in  a  low  voice  he  added,  "Of  Mrs.  William  Maynard, 
of  whom  I  am  so  proud !  "  and  I  had  to  draw  away 
my  hana  to  wipe  away  two  silly  tears. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  used  to  be  a  source  of  great  anxiety  tc  jFatner 
that  none  of  his  children  was  married.  He  naa 
a  notion  that  the  only  way  to  make  a  family  name 
a  strong  one  was  by  increase.  When  Tom  and  Alec 
were  scarcely  out  of  college  and  the  twins  were  still 
in  short  trousers,  Father  announced  that  he  was  go 
ing  to  present  to  the  first  grandson  bearing  the  name 
of  Vars,  a  check  for  three  thousand  dollars.  We 
treated  it  a  good  deal  as  a  joke  then  and  used  to 
poke  a  lot  of  fun  at  the  boys  about  it.  That  was  a 
long  time  ago  —  before  Father  died  —  and  when  we 
found  the  same  offer  written  out  in  plain  black  and 
white  in  Father's  will  we  were  a  little  surprised  and 
a  little  touched  too,  realising  how  dreadfully  in  earn 
est  the  poor  dear  man  must  have  been  about  it,  and 
how  disappointed.  According  to  his  instructions, 
however,  the  three  thousand  dollars  was  put  away  at 
interest  to  await  the  coming  of  the  first  Vars  heir. 
At  the  beginning  of  this  chapter  three  of  us  were 
married  —  though  of  course  I  didn't  count,  being  a 
girl  —  and  still  the  three  thousand  dollars  remained 
unclaimed.  Poor  unlucky  Elise  had  had  four  girls, 
and  Edith  hadn't  had  a  baby  of  any  kind.  However, 
we  all  knew  if  ever  such  an  event  should  take  place 
in  Edith's  career  it  would  be  the  most  important  oc 
casion  in  the  entire  annals  of  the  family.  And  we 
weren't  mistaken.  Edith  had  been  married  several 
years  when  the  wonderful  preparations  were  begun. 

234 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      235 

One  would  have  thought  she  was  the  Queen  of  Hol 
land.  Everybody  in  Hilton  seemed  to  vie  one  with 
another  in  embroidering  tiny  martingales,  knitting 
worsted  blankets,  or  scalloping  flannel  shawls  for 
Edith  Vars'  baby.  The  nursery  that  she  had  had 
built  on  the  sunny  side  of  Father's  house  four  years 
before  fairly  bloomed  into  pink  and  white  equipment. 
You  had  only  to  spend  a  half-hour  there  to  discover 
what  a  popular  person  Edith  was  and  what  a  select 
place  in  society  she  had  at  last  attained.  She  was 
more  than  accommodating  about  telling  from  whom 
each  little  gift  had  come.  For  instance  the  superb 
baby-dress  with  Irish  insertion  Mrs.  Alfred  Sturtevant 
brought  over  herself  yesterday;  the  elaborate  hand- 
embroidered  bassinette  sheets  were  from  Mrs.  Barlow 
—  the  Mrs.  Barlow,  you  understand ;  the  silk  puffs, 
silk  socks,  silk  caps  from  Beatrice,  Phyllis  and  Ber- 
nice.  A  hand-made,  finely-worked  Christening  dress 
of  Alec's,  proving  the  family's  prosperity  thirty-five 
years  ago  (Edith  herself  had  risen  from  the  sod,  you 
know ;  you  may  be  sure  her  Christening  dress  wasn't 
on  exhibition)  had  been  rooted  out  of  an  old  trunk 
in  the  storeroom.  The  most  expensive  "  Specialist " 
within  reach  had  been  engaged,  and  a  nurse  from  Bos 
ton  was  to  remain  for  four  months  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  a  week.  You  could  trust  Edith  to  do  the 
thing  up  in  the  proper  style ;  you  could  trust  her  also 
to  carry  away  that  three  thousand  dollars  premium  in 
Father's  will.  She  felt  cock-sure  of  it  herself. 
Things  had  always  come  her  way,  hadn't  they?  She 
never  did  the  ignominious  thing,  did  she  ?  Poor  Elise 
and  her  four  little  girls  she  had  always  held  in  the 
lowest  esteem.  Fate  simply  wouldn't  allow  Edith 


236      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Vars'  baby  to  be  a  girl.  Every  one  said  so.  Even 
I  was  convinced. 

Alec  treated  Edith  as  if  she  were  the  centre  of  the 
universe.  When  the  shocking  news  about  Oliver 
reached  us,  Alec's  chief  concern  was  in  regard  to  the 
effect  of  the  news  upon  poor  Edith.  It  was  two 
years  after  that  first  dinner  of  ours  at  Dr.  Graham's 
that  the  knowledge  of  my  brother  Oliver's  latest  es 
capade  reached  me  one  morning  in  early  April. 

I  was  diligently  dusting  the  black  walnut  bookcases 
in  our  sunny  living-room.  I  sat  down  in  the  nearest 
chair  at  hand,  perfectly  stunned  for  a  moment,  my 
jaw  hanging  open,  no  doubt,  and  read  through  the 
letter  containing  the  fatal  news  at  least  three  times 
before  I  had  the  strength  to  get  up.  The  first  thing 
I  did  was  to  hang  up  the  square  piece  of  hem-stitched 
cheese-cloth  at  the  head  of  the  cellar  stairs;  then  I 
went  and  hunted  up  a  time-table.  There  was  a  train 
due  to  leave  for  Hilton  at  eleven-ten.  Will  had  left 
early  that  morning,  for  he  had  a  nine  o'clock  recita 
tion,  so  he  wasn't  at  home  when  Alec's  letter  came. 
But  I  knew  that  nothing  less  than  a  death  in  the  fam 
ily  could  drag  him  away  from  his  precious  clinic  the 
next  day,  so  I  hurried  off  for  the  train  alone.  I  stuck 
a  note  of  explanation  into  the  dish  of  ferns  on  the 
middle  of  the  dining-room  table: 

"Dear  Will, 

"  I've  had  a  letter  from  Alec.  Oliver  was  married 
to  a  Madge  Tompkins  in  February !  He's  bringing 
her  to  Hilton  to-night.  This  is  all  I  know  about  it. 
Will  try  to  be  back  before  Sunday. 

"  BOBBIE." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      237 

During  the  last  half-year  Oliver  had  been  superin 
tending  a  gang  of  granite  workers  in  a  little  town  in 
Vermont.  City  life  hadn't  seemed  to  agree  with 
Oliver's  purse  very  well,  and  the  diversions  of  the 
several  middle-western  cities,  in  each  of  which  Oliver 
had  made  a  great  hit  with  all  the  nicest  girls  and  their 
mothers,  had  interfered  with  his  business  hours.  It 
was  after  he  had  tried  six  or  seven  positions,  start 
ing  with  banking  in  Pittsburg,  and  ending  up  with 
shipping  automobile  tires  in  Akron,  Ohio,  that  Tom 
and  Alec  deposited  Oliver,  with  scarcely  a  cent  to  his 
name,  in  Glennings  Falls,  Vermont,  where  the  possi 
bilities  for  spending  money  were  rather  limited. 

Poor  Oliver!  I  felt  awfully  sorry  for  him.  He's 
such  a  brilliant-appearing  fellow!  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if  he  had  struck  an  awfully  hard  run  of  luck  since 
he  graduated  from  college.  He  really  is  a  civil  engi 
neer,  but  fate  has  swerved  him  into  other  lines,  which 
I  think  is  the  cause  of  his  checkered  career.  He  al 
ways  loved  to  build  bridges  and  dams  and  toy  rail 
roads  even  as  a  small  boy.  After  he  finally  succeeded 
in  squeezing  through  college  he  conceived  a  foolish 
notion  —  foolish  according  to  Tom  —  to  take  a  course 
in  Civil  Engineering  at  Cornell.  Of  course  he  didn't 
have  anything  else  to  study  —  no  bugbears  like  Eng 
lish  Composition,  Latin  or  Greek,  so  perhaps  that  is 
why  he  did  so  well  in  the  Engineering.  Anyhow  he 
passed  the  examinations  with  some  kind  of  an  honour 
—  the  only  one,  poor  boy,  that  he  had  ever  been  able 
to  boast  of  in  his  life.  Tom,  who  had  pooh-poohed 
the  idea  of  Oliver's  wasting  a  year  at  Cornell,  finally 
gave  up  his  plan  of  putting  the  boy  to  work  in  his 
lumber  camps,  and  Oliver  started  forth,  hopes  high 


238      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

and  spirits  aglow,  to  accept  an  engineering  job  in 
Arizona.  On  the  way  out,  at  Pittsburg,  he  stopped 
off  to  visit  an  old  college  friend  for  a  fortnight,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  first  week  he  wrote  that  he  had 
struck  a  "  gold  mine."  His  friend's  father  was 
prominently  connected  with  half  a  dozen  banks  in 
Pittsburg  and  had  offered  him  a  position.  I  could 
have  told  the  friend's  father  that  Oliver  would  never 
make  a  banker,  but  he  found  it  out  himself  in  a  little 
.while. 

After  Oliver  left  Pittsburg  everything  went  wrong 
with  him.  No  civil  engineering  jobs  presented  them 
selves,  no  more  friends'  fathers,  no  more  "  gold 
mines "  seemed  to  be  available.  After  that  Oliver 
became  a  regular  rolling-stone.  He  couldn't  seem  to 
keep  any  of  his  positions,  or  he  wouldn't,  I  don't 
know  which.  He  tried  everything.  It  was  manu 
facturing  automobile  parts  in  Toledo;  selling  motor 
cycles  in  Buffalo;  making  out  orders  for  plumbers' 
supplies  in  Cleveland.  He  fizzled  miserably  each  time. 
He  never  had  any  money.  He  was  forever  sending 
to  Tom  or  Alec  for  a  check  for  fifty  until  his  salary 
was  due.  He  was  forever  running  down  to  New 
York  or  over  to  Chicago  for  a  class  reunion  or  a 
dance.  He  was  forever  writing  to  me  vivid  descrip 
tions  of  new  "  queens  "  he  had  met. 

It  was  when  Tom  and  Alec  had  to  pay  fourteen 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  a  "  swell "  little  last  sea 
son's  roadster  that  Oliver  had  secured  at  a  wonderful 
bargain  from  a  friend  of  his  in  Akron  (this  was  when 
he  was  a  shipping  clerk  in  a  tire  factory)  and  in  which 
he  had  been  sporting  about  through  the  streets  of  the 
place  at  a  speed  of  thirty  an  hour,  that  he  was  sum- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      239 

moned  to  the  court  of  his  older  brothers,  and  after 
due  consultation  was  sent  up  to  Glennings  Falls,  like 
a  convict,  to  work  in  the  mines.  His  roadster  was 
sold  at  a  terrible  sacrifice,  he  said,  and  that  fact  seemed 
at  the  time  to  be  his  greatest  regret. 

I  could  have  cried  for  Oliver.  There  would  be  no 
"  queens  "  in  Glennings  Falls ;  there  would  be  no  Sun 
day-night  Lobster-Newbergs  over  a  chafing-dish; 
there  would  be  no  stunning  "  visiting  girls  "  whom  he 
met  at  Class-Day  or  in  Pittsburg  when  he  was  there, 
or  in  Toledo,  Cleveland  or  Buffalo,  for  him  to  call  on 
until  eleven  P.M. 

When  I  arrived  in  Hilton,  Alec  was  at  the  station 
in  the  automobile  to  meet  me  (I  had  had  just  time  to 
'phone  him  that  I  was  coming)  and  Tom  who  had 
come  flying  on  from  the  West  the  minute  Alec's  shock 
ing  telegram  had  reached  him  was  there  too.  Mal 
colm  had  caught  the  midnight  from  New  York  and 
was  waiting  on  the  veranda  when  we  ran  up  under  the 
porte-cochere.  It  was  really  a  family  reunion,  but 
all  the  joy  of  seeing  each  other  again  was  buried  be 
neath  the  horror  and  consternation  in  our  hearts. 
Oliver's  act  was  astounding.  We're  not  an  erratic 
family.  We  never  figure  in  accidents  or  tragedies  of 
any  kind.  We  hate  notoriety. 

"  And  besides  all  the  horrid  publicity  of  a  secret 
marriage,"  said  Ruth,  "  Edith  says  the  creature  is  too 
common  for  anything."  Ruth  dangled  a  dainty  vel 
vet  pump  on  the  tip  of  her  toe  as  she  made  this  re 
mark.  We  were  gathered  in  the  room  that  used  to  be 
the  sitting-room,  all  of  us  —  Tom,  Malcolm,  Edith, 
Alec,  Ruth  and  I.  We  had  been  talking  for  an  hour. 

"  Common !  "  took  up   Edith.     "  She's  absolutely 


240      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

impossible,  I  tell  you!  We  stopped  off  to  see  Oliver 
for  an  hour  on  our  way  to  the  Green  Mountains,"  she 
explained  to  me,  "  last  fall,  in  the  automobile.  He 
didn't  know  we  were  coming.  It  was  Sunday  and 
he  had  some  dreadful  little  frowzy-headed  creature  in 
tow,  I'm  sure  her  name  was  Tompkins  —  silly,  sim 
pering  little  thing  —  perfectly  enormous  pompadour 
and  a  cheap  Hamburg  open-work  lingerie  waist,  over 
bright  pink  —  oh,  horribly  cheap !  I  can't  begin  to 
tell  you!" 

"  Well  —  well  —  we  must  try  to  make  the  best  of 
it,"  said  Tom  lightly. 

"Best  of  it!"  scoffed  Edith.  "Well,  if  Oliver 
thinks  for  one  minute  that  I  am  going  to  throw  open 
my  house  to  his  precious  Madge  Tompkins  he's 
greatly  mistaken.  Ruth  is  having  a  large  bridge 
party  Thursday  —  ten  tables.  This  affair  has  simply 
got  to  be  kept  quiet  until  after  that.  Breck  Sewall  is 
coming  up  from  New  York  to  spend  Sunday.  You 
all  know  he's  paying  marked  attention  to  Ruth,  and 
the  Sewalls  —  Heavens !  —  they're  particular  to  a  de 
gree  !  Oh,  we  mustn't  let  a  single  word  of  this  mis 
erable  affair  leak  out  —  not  a  single  word !  Oh, 
when  I  think  of  it,  I  just  want  — " 

"  Come,  come,  Edith,"  interrupted  Alec.  "  Gently, 
dear.  Gently,  you  know." 

"  Well,  if  any  of  you  expect  me,"  Edith  went  on, 
"  to  have  that  common  person  here,  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  can't  —  I  simply  can't !  I'm  not  in  a  condition 
to  endure  it.  I  — " 

"  Now  look  here,  dear,"  Alec  said  soothingly,  "  no 
one  expects  you  to.  Everything  will  be  exactly  as 
you  wish." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      241 

Oh,  he  would  have  stopped  the  sun  from  rising  if 
Edith  had  requested  it.  I've  never  witnessed  such 
dog-devotion  as  Alec  shows  to  Edith.  He  can't  be 
five  minutes  late  to  an  appointment  with  her,  without 
telephoning  a  plausible  excuse,  or  sending  a  special 
messenger.  She  has  him  wonderfully  trained.  You 
ought  to  see  him  run  around  and  put  down  windows, 
raise  shades,  carry  chairs  or  rush  upstairs  for  her 
work-bag  which  she  forgot  and  left  on  her  bureau 
just  before  dinner. 

At  about  five  o'clock  that  afternoon  Malcolm,  who 
had  been  haunting  the  station  all  day  in  the  hope  of 
meeting  Oliver  and  his  companion,  and  hurrying  them 
quietly  into  a  closed  carriage  as  soon  as  possible, 
burst  in  upon  us,  all  excitement. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  now  ?  "  exclaimed 
Ruth. 

"  Have  they  come  ?  "  asked  Alec. 

"  Has  any  one  heard  of  it?  "  gasped  Edith. 

"Heard  of  it!  It's  gotten  into  the  papers!"  Mal 
colm  announced. 

Tom  and  Alec  both  got  up. 

"  Very  bad?  "  asked  one  of  them,  and  Edith  sprang 
forward  like  a  cat  and  snatched  the  paper  out  of 
Malcolm's  hand. 

"  On  the  front  page,"  said  Malcolm.  "  Here ! 
There  it  is.  Oh,  no  one  can  miss  it." 

"  Heavens!  "  Edith  ejaculated  as  her  eyes  fell  upon 
the  headlines. 

"  Read  it,"  commanded  Tom. 

"Romantic  Love  Affair  of  Oliver  Chenery  Vars  ends 
in  an   Elopement.     Son   of   William  T.   Vars,   former 


242      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

President  of  the  Vars  &  Co.  Woollen  mills  of  this  City 
Marries  his  Landlady's  Daughter." 

She  stopped  short. 
"  Go  on,"  said  Tom  in  a  low  voice. 
"Hadn't  /  better?"  suggested  Alec. 
But  Edith  continued: 

"  The  friends  of  Oliver  Chenery  Vars  will  be  sur 
prised  to  learn  of  his  marriage  to  Miss  Madge  Tomp- 
kins  of  Glennings  Falls,  Vermont.  For  the  past  year 
young  Vars  has  been  connected  with  the  Glennings 
Falls  Granite  Works,  and  the  attachment  between  him 
self  and  Miss  Tompkins,  daughter  of  Mrs.  Ebenezer 
Tompkins,  a  widow  with  whom  he  boarded,  has  been 
a  matter  of  some  concern  to  the  Vars  family.  The 
news  of  his  marriage,  which  is  said  to  have  taken  place 
last  February,  comes  as  a  total  surprise  and  few  par 
ticulars  are  known.  However,  it  has  been  ascertained 
that  the  young  lovers  have  been  forgiven  and  that  they 
will  be  the  guests  of  the  Alexander  Vars  at  The  Home 
stead  for  the  remainder  of  the  week.  The  new  Mrs. 
Vars  is  but  eighteen  and  carried  off  the  blue  ribbon  in 
the  Pretty  Girl  contest  at  the  Glennings  Falls  Agricul 
tural  Fair  last  September." 

"How  perfectly  disgusting!"  broke  in  Ruth. 

"  Rotten !  "  muttered  Malcolm. 

Edith  couldn't  speak.  The  paper  fluttered  to  the 
flood  and  Alec  went  over  and  put  her  gently  in  a 
chair.  Tom  scowled  and  looked  hard  out  of  the  win 
dow.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  full  half -minute,  then 
Tom  turned  suddenly. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  here  he  comes !  Here 
Oliver  comes ! " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      243 

I  leaned  forward  quickly,  picked  up  the  dis 
carded  paper  and  thrust  it  under  my  elbow  on  the 
table. 

Oliver  was  alone.  I  shall  always  remember  how 
he  looked  on  that  spring  evening  as  he  swung  along, 
overcoat  open  and  flapping  in  the  wind,  head  held  high 
and  brow  smooth  and  cloudless.  His  step  was  as 
sure  and  firm  as  when  he  joined  us  all  after 
he  had  received  his  diploma  on  his  graduation  day  at 
college.  My  heart  went  out  to  him  —  poor  Oliver 
always  getting  into  trouble,  gifted  and  talented  in  a 
way  (he  can  sing  like  an  angel)  awfully  good-looking 
and  lovable  (he  has  friends  everywhere),  poor  Oliver 
—  what  would  become  of  him?  I  heard  his  step  on 
the  veranda,  and  a  minute  later  he  was  standing,  six 
feet  high,  smiling  and  confident  in  the  door  of  the 
library.  There  is  something  irresistible  about 
Oliver's  smile.  If  he  had  only  looked  at  me 
I  should  have  smiled  back,  but  his  eyes  rested  on 
Tom. 

"Hello,  everybody!"  he  said.  "Hello,  Tom! 
Mighty  good  of  you  to  come  way  on  East.  Well, 
well,"  he  glanced  swiftly  around  the  room,  "  all  here, 
aren't  you  ?  "  Then  he  added,  "  Well,  what  do  you 
think?" 

"  Seen  the  paper?  "  inquired  Tom. 

"  Is  it  in  the  paper  ?  "  asked  Oliver,  and  Malcolm 
pulled  the  horrible  thing  from  beneath  my  elbow  and 
thrust  it  into  Oliver's  hands.  I  watched  Oliver 
closely.  I  saw  the  slow,  dark  colour  spread  over  his 
face  and  across  that  cloudless  brow  of  his.  I  saw  his 
eyes  travel  once  through  the  article  and  then  go  back 
and  retrace  each  painful  word  of  it  again.  When 


244      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

he  had  satisfied  himself  he  laid  the  paper  down  and 
looked  up. 

"  Well,  it's  true,"  he  said,  and  six  pairs  of  eyes 
glowered  upon  him. 

"What  explanation  have  you  for  this — step  of 
yours  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

Oliver's  confidence  fell  away  a  little.  He  picked 
off  a  bit  of  lint  from  the  sleeve  of  his  coat. 

"Oh,  why  hash  the  whole  thing  over?"  he  said. 
"  I'm  married  all  right.  What's  the  use  —  of  course 
I'm  sorry  it  is  in  the  paper." 

"Sorry!"  sniffed  Ruth. 

"  But  /  didn't  let  it  out.  Hang  it  all,"  he  broke 
off,  "  you  bury  me  in  a  hole  like  that  —  she  was  the 
only  girl  worth  looking  at.  /  didn't  want  to  go  to 
Glennings  Falls.  It  was  your  plan." 

"  You  had  had  six  other  positions  before  we  re 
sorted  to  Glennings  Falls,"  fired  Alec. 

Oliver  flushed. 

"  Oh,  well  —  if  you've  all  made  up  your  minds  to 
be  disagreeable!  I  left  Madge  at  the  station  to  come 
up  in  a  carriage,"  he  explained.  "  She'll  be  here  in 
five  minutes.  I  hope  at  least  you'll  be  decent  to  her," 

"  Decent  to  he r,  Oliver  Vars !  "  Edith  had  found 
her  voice,  "I  guess  you  better  begin  and  think  how 
you  can  be  decent  to  its.  Do  you  know  what  you've 
done?  You've  simply  ruined  our  reputations  and 
just  when  Breck  Sewall  —  oh,  you've  disgraced  us 
all!  I  shall  never  want  to  hold  up  my  head  again, 
and  Ruth  has  invitations  out  for  a  big  bridge.  Madge 
Tompkins !  Don't  ask  me  to  be  decent  to  her.  She'll 
never  spend  a  night  under  this  roof  as  long  as  7  live. 
Oh,  I've  seen  her  —  common  little  — " 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      245 

"  Be  careful,"  shot  back  Oliver,  flushed  and  angry 
now.  "  Madge's  father  was  a  minister,  an  educated 
gentleman,  when  yours  at  that  period  of  his  career 
was  collecting  scrap  iron  and  junk  from  people's  back 
yards!" 

Edith  grew  red.  The  early  life  of  her  iron-king 
father  had  always  been  a  sore  point  with  her.  I  don't 
know  what  she  would  have  done;  perhaps  literally 
have  scratched  Oliver's  eyes  out,  if  Tom  hadn't  in 
terrupted. 

"  Oh,  come.  None  of  this,"  he  said.  "  Oliver,  you 
were  hasty  in  what  you  said;  and,  Edith,  let  us  see 
the  young  lady  before  we  pass  judgment  on  her.  I 
think  she's  coming.  At  least  here  is  a  carriage." 

It  was  very  touching  to  me  when  Oliver  went  down 
to  the  carriage  at  the  curbing  and  helped  out  the  girl 
whom  of  all  the  hundreds  (for  Oliver  could  have  had 
almost  any  one :  Women  adored  him)  he  had  chosen 
to  honour  the  most  highly.  She  was  short  and  a  little 
shabby  with  a  sort  of  cheap  flashiness  that  you  could 
see  a  hundred  yards  away.  I  knew  particular,  fastidi 
ous  Oliver  must  feel  a  little  ashamed  of  the  wrinkled 
checked  suit  she  wore,  the  big-figured  gaudy  lace 
veil  over  her  hat,  the  dingy  white  ostrich  plumes.  I 
felt  very  sorry  for  Oliver  when  at  the  library  door 
she  stepped  back  to  let  him  enter,  and  he  said  gently, 
"  You  first,  Madge."  She  stumbled  in  smiling  and 
confused.  She  really  was  rather  impossible:  pretty 
in  a  way,  but  oh,  miles  and  miles  away  from  every 
thing  that  is  essential  to  a  good  taste  and  good  man 
ners.  She  wore  white  kid  gloves  and  patent-leather 
slippers  that  pinched  her  feet.  There  was  a  celluloid 
comb  in  the  back  of  her  hair  with  rhinestones  in  it. 


246      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Well,  here  they  are,  Madge ! "  said  Oliver  heart- 
ily. 

Her  first  words  jarred  us. 

"  I  guess  we  surprised  you  some,"  she  laughed. 

"  Well  —  it  was  unexpected,"  said  Tom  finally. 

She  giggled  at  that;  then  she  asked,  trying  to  ap 
pear  at  ease,  "  Well,  aren't  you  going  to  introduce  me 
around,  Oliver?  " 

It  was  very  painful.  She  gave  her  fingers  to  us 
in  a  ridiculous  fashion.  "  Pleased  to  meet  you ! " 
she  said  like  a  machine  after  each  name,  and  then  after 
I,  the  last  one,  had  dropped  her  hand,  in  a  moment 
of  deep  confusion  she  remarked,  glancing  around  the 
room,  "  Oh,  my,  I  think  your  house  is  just  grand! " 

Malcolm   coughed;   Oliver  flushed. 

"  Did  you  have  a  long  trip?  "  I  asked. 

"  Just  dreadful,"  she  replied  eagerly.  "  The  dirt 
was  something  awful.  We  came  up  in  a  parlour-car. 
I  just  love  parlour-cars!  We've  been  staying  at  an 
elegant  hotel  in  New  York." 

"Sit  down,  won't  you?"  said  Malcolm  kindly. 
He  pushed  up  a  chair  and  she  glanced  at  him  archly. 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much!"  Then  she  added 
coyly,  and  my  heart  bled  for  her  poor  pitiful  attempt, 
"  I  know  you.  You're  Malcolm.  I  was  awfully 
gone  on  your  photo  once."  She  giggled  again. 
Alec  took  out  a  large  white  handkerchief  and  wiped 
his  brow.  Malcolm  shifted  uneasily  to  his  other  foot, 
and  she  added  confidentially,  "  It  was  something  aw 
ful  the  way  it  used  to  make  Oliver  jealous." 

At  that  moment  Edith  swept  up  before  her.  "  I 
think  I  met  you  once,"  she  began  loftily. 

"  I  remember,"  said  Madge.     "  You  came  through 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      247 

in  a  big  auto.  My,  but  I  thought  Oliver  had  some 
stylish  folks!" 

"  I'm  extremely  sorry  that  our  rooms  are  all  filled 
to-night,"  went  on  Edith  grandly,  "  and  that  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  ask  you  to  remain." 

Madge  reddened.  "  I  wouldn't  trouble  you  for 
anything,"  she  apologised. 

"  No,"  said  Oliver  and  his  voice  shook  with  scorn, 
"  we  wouldn't  trouble  you.  Madge,  please  wait  for 
me  a  moment  on  the  veranda."  She  looked  up  fright 
ened.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  and  she  rose  and  without  a 
word  walked  out  of  the  room.  Oliver  closed  the 
door.  He  was  red  in  the  face  with  indignation. 

"  Thank  you  all  for  your  kindness,"  he  said  very 
scathingly;  "I'm  sure  I'm  very  grateful.  If  this  is 
what  it  means  to  be  a  member  of  a  family,  let  me  be 
free  of  it." 

Tom  got  up.  "  Well  — "  he  drawled,  "  if  you  can 
get  along  without  us,  why  we — " 

"Very  well,"  retorted  Oliver.  "Very  well,  if 
that's  your  answer.  I've  thrown  up  the  charming  job 
at  Glennings  Falls  anyway.  I'm  not  so  everlasting 
dependent  as  you  have  an  idea.  I'm  off,  and  thank 
heaven !  It's  too  bad  if  I've  interrupted  Ruth's  bridge 
party.  It's  really  too  bad.  I'm  through  with  the 
whole  lot  of  you.  I'm  through !  "  He  turned.  The 
door  slammed.  The  room  trembled  to  the  very  ceil 
ing  and  a  gust  of  wind  snatched  a  pile  of  loose  papers 
on  the  table  and  whirled  them  on  to  the  floor.  We 
heard  the  angry  bang  of  the  outer  door  and  Oliver 
had  gone. 

That  evening  I  wired  to  Will :  "  Three  of  us  will 
arrive  to-night.  Bobbie.1' 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  minute  I  heard  Oliver  explode  out  of  that 
house  of  ours,  and  swing  down  the  street  — 
proud,  angry,  indignant,  with  that  ridiculous  little 
creature  running  on  behind  —  I  felt  that  he  was 
headed  straight  to  unhappiness  and  disaster.  I  under 
stand  Oliver  pretty  well,  and  knew  that  he  saw,  as 
plainly  as  any  of  us,  all  the  crude  rough  corners  of 
the  little  country  girl,  to  whom  he  had  been  attracted, 
and  married  in  some  mad  impulsive  moment.  After 
listening  for  half  an  hour  to  a  lot  of  plagiarisms  from 
Tom  and  Alec  such  as,  "  He  must  paddle  his  own 
canoe,"  "  Experience  is  the  best  teacher,"  etc.,  I 
slipped  out  of  the  house  and  down  to  the  station. 

I  told  Will  about  it  late  that  night. 

"  I  found  them  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  waiting- 
room.  They  weren't  speaking.  She  had  been  crying. 
Oliver  was  glum  and  very  silent.  I  think  he  was  feel 
ing  awfully  sorry  that  he  had  married  her  —  I  do 
really  —  and  I  don't  know  whether  I  felt  sorrier  for 
him  or  for  her.  So  right  then  and  there  I  decided  to 
bring  them  home  with  me.  We  must  do  something, 
Will.  We  must.  I  finally  wormed  it  out  of  Oliver 
that  he  was  down  to  his  very  last  one  hundred  dollars 
and  not  a  single  thing  in  sight.  I  know  as  well  as 
you  that  Madge  is  a  difficult  proposition,  but  we've 
got  to  have  her  for  a  sister-in-law  whether  we  like 
it  or  not.  I  know  that  our  reputations  are  all  tangled 
up  in  this  thing,  but  a  snarl  will  never  get  untangled 

248 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      249 

unless  somebody  begins  to  pick  it  apart.  Will,  I'm 
so  glad  that  you  have  got  a  mind  that  is  concerned 
with  the  ailments  of  guinea-pigs  rather  than  society 
and  what  people  think.  For  you  see,  dear,  I've  told 
Oliver  that  he  and  Madge  shall  stay  right  here  with 
us  until  something  turns  up  for  Oliver  to  do." 

"  But,  Bobbie,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Will,  "  have  you 
forgotten  that  for  Commencement  week  we  have  in 
vited  Dr.  Merrill,  who  is  to  receive  an  honourary  de 
gree,  and  his  wife  to  be  our  guests?  " 

"  No,  Will  dear,  I  haven't  forgotten  it,  nor  that  I 
was  giving  my  first  really-truly  little  dinner  next  Wed 
nesday;  but  I  know  that  Oliver  is  my  own  brother 
and  that  I've  simply  got  to  stand  by  him  and  see  him 
through." 

Three  days  later  I  received  a  scathing  letter  from 
Edith : 

"  I  suppose  that  you  are  posing  as  the  Good  Samaritan. 
We  all  think  you  acted  very  unwisely  and  not  at  all  for 
Oliver's  best  good.  You  may  be  interested  to  know  that 
the  doctor  says  he  wouldn't  have  allowed  me  to  keep 
the  girl  here  for  one  minute.  I  am  still  in  bed,  as  it  is, 
from  the  bad  effects  of  the  shock  of  the  whole  affair. 
I  made  Alec  write  something  for  the  paper  yesterday, 
denying  the  report  that  we  were  entertaining  the  couple 
here.  On  the  contrary  I  have  let  it  be  known  that  I 
do  not  intend  to  recognise  the  new  Mrs.  Vars  at  all. 
It  is  the  only  safe  policy.  If  you  want  to  know  my  opin 
ion,  /  think  you  are  extremely  foolish  to  have  taken  that 
girl  into  your  house  for  one  night  even.  You'll  simply 
kill  yourself  socially.  Remember  you're  a  new  member 
in  the  circle  in  which  you  are  moving  and  will  be  known 
and  judged  by  the  friends  and  connections  you  have.  It's 


250      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

a  shame  when  you've  just  got  started  on  the  right  path 
to  ruin  your  chances,  and  Will's  too.  However,  it's  your 
affair.  Do  as  you  please." 

"  Oh,  thanks,"  I  said  and  stuffed  the  charming 
epistle  into  the  kitchen  stove. 

My  real  difficulty  however  lay  with  Madge  herself. 
The  poor  deluded  girl  had  been  brought  up  to  believe 
that  she  was  irresistibly  charming.  There  hadn't 
been  a  prettier  girl  than  she  in  Glennings  Falls.  She 
could  boast  of  more  "  best  young  men,"  as  she  called 
them,  than  any  girl  I  ever  knew.  Four  young  aspi 
rants,  before  Oliver  had  appeared,  had  proposed  to 
her,  and  she  was  only  nineteen.  Her  father,  a  man 
of  enough  education  to  be  a  minister,  had  died  of  con 
sumption,  when  Madge  was  a  baby.  Since  then,  she 
and  her  mother  had  managed  to  make  a  living  by 
boarding  some  of  the  foremen  and  superintendents  at 
the  quarries.  They  had  always  had  the  distinction  of 
entertaining  the  owner  of  the  granite  works  whenever 
he  came  to  Glennings  Falls  for  a  yearly  inspection. 
It  was  he  who  had  procured  a  position  for  Madge 
"  to  wait  on  table  "  summertimes  at  one  of  the  big 
mountain  hotels.  There  she  had  picked  up  a  great 
many  ideas  on  style  and  fashion,  and  copied  them  now 
in  cheap  exaggerated  imitation. 

The  first  evening  after  her  trunk  arrived  at  our 
house,  she  appeared  decked  out  in  a  fearful  display  of 
lace  and  flashy  finery,  redolent  with  cologne,  and  man 
ners  that  matched  her  clothes.  She  talked  inces 
santly.  Her  lace  and  perfumery  seemed  to  give  her 
confidence.  She  discoursed  volubly  on  New  York, 
and  aired  her  newly-acquired  knowledge  of  hotel  life 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      251 

in  a  way  that  was  pitiable.  Even  Will,  quiet  and 
dignified,  failed  to  impress  Madge.  All  the  scientific 
knowledge  in  the  world  could  not  awe  the  little  village 
coquette  into  silence.  She  even  dangled  her  ear-rings 
at  solemn  old  Will  and  tried  to  flirt  with  him.  It  was 
not  Madge  who  appeared  ill-at-ease ;  it  was  the  rest  of 
us  who  squirmed  in  our  boots,  blushed  at  her  mistakes, 
coughed,  gulped  down  desperate  swallows  of  water 
to  cover  our  confusion.  She  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  horrible  burlesque  she  was  playing.  As  the 
days  went  on,  the  more  silent  the  rest  of  us  became, 
the  more  she  prattled.  The  more  we  failed  to  appre 
ciate  her  loveliness  and  wit,  the  more  toggery  she 
pulled  out  of  her  trunk  and  exhibited  for  our  benefit, 
the  crimpier  grew  her  hair,  the  higher,  if  possible,  be 
came  her  pompadour,  the  noisier  her  laughter.  Once 
I  humbly  suggested  that  she  leave  off  her  ear-rings  on 
a  certain  occasion  when  we  were  going  shopping. 
She  treated  my  interference  with  utter  scorn,  and  ap 
peared  half  an  hour  later  ready  to  accompany  me  to 
the  market,  with  two  large  pearls  screwed  securely 
into  the  lobe  of  each  ear.  "  Every  one  wears  them 
in  New  York,"  she  announced. 

I  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  the  child.  For  two 
weeks  I  rose  every  morning  and  went  downstairs  to 
a  painful  ordeal  at  breakfast;  for  two  weeks  I  saw 
Oliver  flush  and  try  to  keep  his  eyes  from  meeting 
mine  when  Madge  opened  her  mouth  to  speak;  for 
two  weeks  I  saw  a  threatening  frown  hover  about 
Oliver's  brow.  I  began  to  despair.  Then  suddenly, 
one  evening,  I  found  my  poor  brother  in  the  gloomy 
living-room,  brooding  over  an  open  fire.  His  head 
was  in  his  hand,  his  elbow  on  his  knee.  I  hadn't 


252      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

spoken  to  Oliver  directly  about  Madge.  I  didn't  now. 
I  simply  said  very  gently,  "  Want  me  to  read  aloud 
to  you  ?  " 

"  She  wasn't  like  this  at  Glennings  Falls,"  he  burst 
out  miserably,  not  stirring.  "  I  want  you  to  know  it, 
because,  well  —  I  suppose  you  wonder  why  I  ever  was 
attracted  to  her.  I  wonder  sometimes  myself 
now — "  He  stopped  a  moment,  then  went  on,  talk 
ing  straight  into  the  fire.  "  I  used  to  see  a  lot  of 
her,  you  see.  Every  night  and  every  morning.  She 
used  to  pack  my  lunch  and  bring  it  up  to  me  to  the 
grove  near  the  works  every  noon.  I  used  to  look  for 
ward  to  having  her  come  —  a  lot.  Glennings  Falls 
is  the  deadliest  hole  you  ever  struck,  and  well  — 
Madge  was  bright  and  full  of  fun.  She  isn't  herself 
now.  She  wasn't  like  this.  She  was  just  as  natural 
and  simple.  Upon  my  word,"  he  broke  off,  "  I've 
seen  a  lot  of  girls,  one  time  and  another,  winners  too, 
but  somehow  they  none  of  them  took  such  a  hold  on 
me  as  Madge.  I  thought  she'd  learn  quickly  enough, 
as  soon  as  I  got  her  down  into  civilisation,  and  so  — 
anyway,  I  married  her.  Since — Well,  it's  no  go, 
that's  all.  It's  been  bully  of  you  to  take  her  in,  but 
I  see  clearly  enough  it  can't  work.  Of  course  I  mean 
to  stick  to  her,"  he  went  on.  "  Of  course.  I  sup 
pose  I've  simply  got  to  find  a  job  out  West  somewhere, 
a  long  way  off  from  everything  and  every  one  I  know 
or  —  care  about,  and  clear  out.  I  mean  to  do  the 
right  thing."  Then  raising  his  eyes  to  mine  he  said 
with  a  queer,  forced  smile,  "  I  guess  my  fun's  all  over, 
Bobbie." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  it  isn't/'  I  said  fiercely.  "  Don't 
say  that."  I  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  No,  it 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      253 

isn't,  Oliver,"  and  suddenly,  because  I  couldn't  bear 
to  see  Oliver  unhappy  and  despairing,  because  my 
voice  was  trembling  and  there  were  tears  in  my  eyes, 
I  went  quickly  out  of  the  room  and  upstairs. 

I  was  surprised  on  passing  the  guest-room  to  hear 
muffled  sobs.  I  stopped  and  listened,  and  then,  quite 
sure,  I  abruptly  knocked  and  immediately  opened  the 
door.  I  was  amazed  to  discover  Madge  face  down 
ward  on  the  bed  in  tears. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  I  exclaimed.  I  had 
never  seen  anything  but  arch  glances  in  her  eyes  be 
fore. 

"  I  want  to  go  home !  I  want  to  go  home ! 
They're  not  ashamed  of  me  at  home !  "  she  wailed. 

I  closed  the  door  and  went  over  to  her. 

"I  just  hate  it  here,  I  just  hate  it!"  she  went  on. 
"  Oliver  thought  I  was  good  enough  at  home."  She 
was  crying  all  the  time  and  each  sentence  came  brok 
enly.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I'd  never  heard  of  Oliver 
Vars,"  she  choked.  "  I've  tried  and  tried  to  be  like 
his  folks  but  he  finds  fault  with  every  single  thing  I 
do,  or  wear,  or  say,  or  think,  and  I'm  going  home.  I 
think  his  people  are  all  stuck-up,  horrid  old  things  any 
way  and  I  just  hate  it,  hate  it,  hate  it  here.  Oh,  go 
away,  go  away ! "  she  cried  out  at  me  in  a  torrent  of 
sobs. 

Instead  I  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  Look  here,  Madge,"  I  said  sternly.  "  Stop  talk 
ing  like  that.  Stop  it.  You  can't  go  home.  Don't 
you  know  you're  married?  Why,  it's  perfectly  ab 
surd!" 

The  sobbing  stopped  suddenly  and  she  lay  still  with 
her  nose  buried  in  the  down  comforter.  I  went  on 


254      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

talking  to  the  cheap  rhinestone  comb  in  the  back  of 
her  head. 

"  I've  got  something  to  say  to  you,"  I  said,  "  and 
I  want  you  to  listen.  I've  been  wanting  to  talk  to 
you  ever  since  you  came  to  this  house,  and  now  I'm 
going  to  do  it.  You  say  Oliver  finds  fault  with  you, 
and  let  me  tell  you  I  don't  blame  him  a  bit.  He  cer 
tainly  has  reason  to.  Why,  I  never  have  run  across 
a  young  lady  who  knew  so  little  about  things  as  you 
do.  You  don't  know  how  to  do  anything  properly. 
Your  clothes  are  atrocious,  and  your  manners  —  your 
self-assured  manners  here  in  my  house  are  inexcus 
able.  You're  only  a  young  girl  of  nineteen  years 
who  never  has  had  any  experience  nor  seen  anything 
of  the  world.  I  don't  blame  you,  understand.  It 
isn't  your  fault  that  everything  you  do  or  say  or 
wear  makes  us  all  blush  with  shame ;  but  it  does  — • 
it  does,  Madge.  Why,  I  had  to  give  up  inviting 
some  people  here  to  dinner  because  I  was  afraid  of 
the  breaks  and  the  horrible  remarks  you  might  make 
before  my  friends.  Edith  wouldn't  have  you  in  her 
house.  That's  the  bald  truth  of  it,  my  dear.  You 
might  as  well  know  how  we  feel.  It  may  sound  cruel 
and  hard,  and  I  wouldn't  say  these  things  to  Oliver's 
wife  if  she  had  come  here  modest,  unpretentious,  and 
anxious  to  learn;  but  she  didn't,  I  should  say  she 
didn't!  The  worst  ignorance  in  the  world  is  that 
which  parades  itself  up  and  down  thinking  itself  very 
grand  and  elegant  while  all  the  lookers-on  are  laugh 
ing  up  their  sleeves.  That's  what  you've  been  doing, 
Madge."  I  stopped  a  moment  to  give  the  poor  girl 
a  chance  to  say  something. 

"  Go  away  —  go  away  —  go  away!"  she  burst  out 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      255 

at  me,  turning  her  head  enough  to  let  the  words  out 
into  the  room.  "  Oh,  go  away !  " 

I  stood  up. 

"  No,  Madge,"  I  replied  calmly.  "  I  shan't  go 
away,  and  neither  shall  you.  You  don't  seem  to  know 
what's  best  for  yourself,  so  I  will  tell  you.  You're 
going  to  stay  right  here  with  me,  and  work  and  study 
and  learn.  You  are  married  to  Oliver  Vars  ana 
you're  to  make  a  success  of  it  if  it  kills  you;  and  it 
won't  kill  you.  You're  going  to  make  him  and  the 
rest  of  us  all  proud  of  you  before  you  get  through 
and  I  am  going  to  help  you.  Do  you  hear  me? 
We're  going  to  work  it  out  together.  You've  got 
it  in  you.  I  know  you  have.  I  see  you  have,"  I 
lied.  "  You're  a  fine  girl  underneath.  Don't  you  re 
member  up  there  in  Glennings  Falls  how  you  used  to 
bring  Oliver  his  lunch  at  noon?  He  has  told  me  all 
about  it  —  how  nice  you  were,  I  mean  —  and  how 
sure  he  was  that  you  would  learn  as  soon  as  you 
carne  down  here.  Well  —  you're  going  to  begin  to 
night.  Hereafter  you'll  do  exactly  as  I  say." 

"  Go  away!"  came  again  from  the  depths  of  the 
down  comforter. 

I  ignored  it  entirely. 

"  Get  up  now  and  bathe  your  eyes,"  I  said  cheer 
fully.  "  Dinner  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour.  I 
want  you  to  wear  the  white  muslin  you  had  on  this 
morning  and  no  ear-rings.  Remember,"  I  added  dis 
tinctly,  going  to  the  door,  "  remember,  absolutely  no 
ear-rings  to-night,  please." 

But  Oliver  and  Will  and  I  had  dinner  alone  that 
evening.  "  She  won't  come  down,"  Oliver  had  an 
nounced  gloomily.  "  She's  in  an  awful  state.  She's 


256      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

crying.  She  wants  to  go  home,"  he  said,  and  my 
heart  sank  for  I  knew  I  had  played  my  last  card  and 
lost. 

That  night  Will  had  brought  home  the  long-looked- 
for  good  news  of  a  position  for  Oliver.  We  dis 
cussed  it  quietly  at  dinner  —  the  three  of  us  with 
Madge  crying  upstairs.  A  friend  of  Will's,  a  civil 
engineer,  had  said  that  if  Oliver  cared  to  go  down 
into  South  America  to  some  God-forsaken  spot  in 
the  Argentine  Republic  —  no  place  for  a  woman,  by 
the  way  —  there  was  an  engineering  job  down  there 
waiting  for  somebody.  The  job  would  take  some 
five  or  six  months;  there  might  or  might  not  be  any 
future  —  Will's  friend  couldn't  say. 

"  I'll  go.  I'll  go  right  off,"  said  Oliver.  "  Madge 
is  unhappy  and  wants  to  go  home  anyway.  I'm  sure 
it's  best.  It  was  all  a  mistake,"  he  admitted  sadly  to 
Will,  "  my  taking  her  away  from  Glennings  Falls. 
I  might  have  known  it  wouldn't  work."  I  stared 
hard  at  a  saltcellar.  Will  began  carving  the  steak 
silently.  "  You  can  go  ahead  now  and  have  your 
people  here  for  Commencement,"  observed  Oliver; 
"  Madge  and  I  will  both  be  gone  in  a  week.  I'm  re 
lieved  it's  settled,"  he  added  gravely. 

It  was  during  our  dessert,  after  Delia  had  taken 
up  a  tray  to  Madge,  that  I  was  told  that  Mrs.  Vars 
wanted  me  in  her  bedroom.  I  excused  myself  and 
slipped  upstairs  quietly.  Madge  was  in  bed;  her 
hair  was  parted,  braided  neatly  down  her  back;  her 
tears  were  dried;  her  plain  little  nightgown  buttoned 
at  her  throat.  I  had  never  seen  her  look  so  pretty. 
Her  dinner  stood  beside  her  bed  untouched. 

"You  wanted  me?"  I  asked. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      257 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  I'm  not  going  home.  I'll 
do  anything  you  tell  me,"  she  said. 

And  she  didn't  go  home.  We  packed  Oliver  off 
alone  for  South  America,  the  next  week,  and  as  I 
rode  back  from  the  station  in  the  open  car  with  his 
slip  of  a  wife  beside  me,  on  my  hands  for  the  next 
half  year,  I  drew  my  first  long  free  breath.  Oliver, 
I  recognised,  had  been  more  of  a  responsibility  on  my 
mind  than  Madge.  My  way  was  clear  now.  Les 
sons  could  begin  any  day,  and  no  one  will  ever  know 
what  earnestness  and  determination  went  into  the  task 
that  I  had  undertaken.  From  the  beginning  I  took 
it  absolutely  for  granted  that  since  our  stormy  talk 
that  evening  in  the  guest-room  our  relations  there 
after  would  be  those  of  scholar  and  teacher;  my 
authority  would  be  unquestioned. 

I  overhauled  the  child's  entire  wardrobe  with  the 
freedom  and  cruelty  of  a  customs  officer.  The  cheap 
lace  things  I  sent  to  the  Salvation  Army.  The  rhine- 
stone  comb  I  dropped  into  the  stove  before  her  very 
eyes.  Ear-rings,  jingling  bracelets,  glass  beads, 
enameled  brooches,  I  put  in  a  box  in  the  storeroom. 
A  much-treasured  parasol  made  out  of  cheap  Ham 
burg  embroidery  I  presented  to  Delia.  Even  Madge's 
toilet  accessories  were  somehow  done  away  with. 
Her  elaborate  hand-mirror  with  decorated  porcelain 
back  and  hair-brush  to  match  were  replaced  by  a  set 
of  plain  white  celluloid  that  could  be  scrubbed  with 
safety  every  week.  The  perfumery  was  poured 
down  the  bathroom  sink.  As  soon  as  I  was  able,  I 
purchased  for  Madge  a  few  plain  white  shirt-waists 
with  tailored  collars,  and  a  "  three-fifty  "  stiff  sailor 
hat  made  of  black  straw.  When  the  crimp  had  all 


258      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

been  soaked  out  of  her  hair,  a  wire  pompadour  sup 
porter,  three  side-combs,  eighteen  hairpins,  a  net,  a 
switch  that  didn't  match,  two  puffs  and  a  velvet  bow 
had  been  extracted  from  her  coiffure,  I  parted  the 
little  hair  that  remained  and  rolled  it  into  a  bun  about 
as  big  as  a  doughnut  in  the  back  of  her  neck.  She 
looked  as  shorn  as  a  young  sheep  that  has  just  been 
clipped.  Her  eyes  fairly  stared  out  of  her  head.  I 
discovered  that  they  were  large  and  blue,  with  long 
lashes.  Her  features,  unframed  by  the  dreadful  halo 
of  hair,  were  flawless  —  small  and  finely  cut.  After 
I  had  gotten  all  the  dreadful  veneer  off  of  the  child 
she  reminded  me  of  a  lovely  old  piece  of  mahogany 
discovered  in  some  old  attic  or  other,  after  the  sev 
eral  coats  of  common  crude  paint  have  been  scraped 
off  and  the  natural  grain  finally  appears  perfect  and 
unharmed. 

She  looked  on  at  her  metamorphosis,  and  at  the 
cruel  ravage  of  her  treasures,  passive  and  apparently 
indifferent.  After  her  surrender  to  me  she  had  no 
spirit  left.  She  accepted  my  rule  with  a  meekness  I 
couldn't  understand.  After  that  night  in  the  guest 
room  she  became  a  different  creature.  She 
dropped  her  little  airs  and  affectations  as  abruptly  as 
if  they  were  a  garment  that  she  could  hang  up  and 
leave  behind  her  in  the  closet.  She  became  dumb  at 
our  table,  and  with  Will  actually  shy  and  frightened. 
I  thought  her  sudden  change  was  due  to  ill-temper, 
and  I  bullied  the  poor  beaten  little  creature  terribly. 
I  domineered,  tyrannised,  scorned  and  mocked.  I 
didn't  dare  be  tender,  for  I  was  convinced  that  success 
lay  only  in  complete  submission.  Poor  little  "  alone  " 
thing  —  I  did  feel  sorry  for  her  at  times !  Her  eyes 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      259 

were  often  red  from  crying.  She  didn't  eat  very 
much  and  her  cheeks  grew  pale  before  my  sight. 
She  used  to  sit  sometimes  for  an  hour  at  a  time  with 
out  saying  a  word,  until  I  longed  to  put  comforting 
arms  about  her.  When  she  accompanied  me  to  the 
market  several  weeks  after  Oliver  had  gone  away  — 
quiet,  silent,  subdued,  Glennings  Falls  would  never  in 
the  world  have  recognised  their  gay  sparkling  little 
village  coquette  who  had  had  a  word,  a  nod,  and  a 
smile  ready  for  every  one  who  passed. 

Oliver  had  been  gone  about  six  weeks  when  Madge 
told  me  her  astounding  news.  I  didn't  know  what  to 
say  to  her  for  a  moment.  I  was  awfully  surprised. 
She  seemed  such  a  baby,  and  I  suppose  it  always 
comes  with  a  jolt  when  you  first  realise  your  younger 
brother  is  actually  a  man.  I  was  amazed  too  that 
such  an  apparently  weak  little  thing  as  Madge  had  so 
pluckily  kept  her  big  secret  to  herself  for  so  many 
weeks.  She  had  known  of  it  before  Oliver  had  gone 
away,  but  she  hadn't  liked  to  tell  him,  she  confessed. 
He  had  left  her  without  as  much  as  a  premonition  of 
the  truth,  and  it  was  because  of  what  was  waiting  for 
her  in  the  future  that  she  had  been  frightened  into 
staying  with  me.  She  hadn't  known  what  else  to  do. 
I  stared  at  her  open-eyed.  It  was  when  I  saw  her 
under  lip  tremble  like  a  little  child's  and  two  tears 
fall  splash  upon  her  wrist,  that  I  put  out  my  hand 
and  drew  her  down  beside  me  on  the  couch.  She 
leaned  against  me  and  began  to  cry  in  earnest  then. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't  cry,  Madge,"  I  pleaded  quietly. 
"  Please!  I'm  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be,  dear,"  I  said. 
"  Everything  will  be  all  right.  Don't  be  afraid." 
But  still  she  sobbed.  "Listen;  I've  been  wanting  to 


260      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

tell  you  for  days  how  well  you're  doing  —  even  Will 
remarks  on  it.  Please,  please  don't  cry,  Madge. 
Why,  I  hadn't  an  idea  of  this.  I  didn't  dream  of  it. 
But  we'll  see  you  safely  through.  Oh,  Madge,  don't 
cry  so  hard.  Listen,  my  dear  girl,  you  can  go  home 
to-morrow  if  you  want  to." 

Suddenly  she  turned  and  buried  her  head  on  my 
shoulder.  Her  hand  sought  mine  and  held  it  tight. 
She  clung  to  me  as  if  she  needed  me  very  much. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  home.  I'd  rather  stay  right 
here  with  you,"  she  sobbed. 

My  arms  went  around  her.  Remember  I  have 
never  had  many  friendships  with  girls.  Staunch, 
true,  loyal  Juliet  would  nurse  me  through  the  small 
pox  if  necessary,  but  she  doesn't  like  to  be  kissed. 
Years  ago  when  we  stayed  all  night  at  each  other's 
houses  we  slept  on  the  extreme  opposite  edges  of  the 
bed  and  if  one  of  my  elbows  as  much  as  grazed 
Juliet's  shoulder-blade,  I  was  vigorously  poked  in  the 
ribs  and  told  to  get  over  to  my  side.  My  younger  sis 
ter  Ruth  had  not  sought  one  of  my  hands  since  she 
was  able  to  walk  alone.  She  would  rather  cry  into 
a  pillow  than  on  my  shoulder.  If  there  had  ever 
been  any  doubt  about  my  loving  this  little  helpless 
creature,  who  turned  to  me  now  in  her  hour  of  fear 
and  dread,  it  was  entirely  dispelled  during  that  half- 
hour  on  the  couch  in  our  living-room. 

It  was  after  that  day  that  our  best  work  began.  I 
continued  stern  and  severe  with  Madge,  but  there  was 
unmistakable  affection  underneath.  I  resorted  to 
every  device  in  the  world  for  my  little  protegee's  edu 
cation.  I  laugh  as  I  look  back  to  some  of  the  drills 
and  tests  I  put  her  through.  Fridays,  for  instance, 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      261 

.were  our  shopping  days  in  Boston.  Department 
stores  are  regular  educational  institutions.  It  wasn't 
a  month  before  Madge  was  able  to  detect  machine 
embroidery  from  hand-work;  imitation  Irish  crochet 
from  real ;  coarse  linen  from  fine.  We  spent  hours  at 
j"  window-gazing."  In  that  old,  popular  childhood 
game  of  "  Choosing,"  Madge  became  quite  an  adept. 
I  used  to  make  her  pick  out  the  suit,  or  the  hat,  or 
the  piece  of  dress-goods  in  a  window  display  which 
was  the  most  conservative,  and  verify  her  choice  by 
my  selection.  Conservatism  I  preached  to  her 
from  morning  till  night,  and  she  got  so  she  could 
recognise  it  a  block  away.  Homeward-bound  from 
those  Friday  shopping  days,  I  would  indicate  an  in 
dividual  opposite  to  us  in  the  car,  and  that  evening  a 
vivisection  of  her  toilet  would  take  place  in  our  li 
brary.  I  have  often  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  mortals 
whose  oversupply  of  imitation  fillet,  high-heeled  ill- 
kept  pumps,  or  spotted  veil  we  so  severely  criticised; 
for  the  young  girls  —  gay,  unconscious  creatures  — • 
who  laughed  too  freely,  talked  too  loudly  for  our 
fastidious  requirements. 

Madge's  table-manners  had  been  shocking.  She 
mashed  her  food  with  the  prongs  of  her  fork  and 
poured  gravy  over  her  bread;  she  ate  enough  butter 
for  three  men.  We  used  to  have  written  examina 
tions  on  table-manners.  After  she  had  progressed  so 
that  she  could  eat  a  poached  egg  without  daubing  the 
entire  plate,  and  a  half-orange  with  a  spoon  without 
sprinkling  the  front  of  her  waist  with  drops  of  yel 
low  juice,  I  advanced  her  to  my  place  at  the  table. 
For  a  month  she  sat  opposite  Will  and  played  at 
hostess.  She  offered  the  bread;  she  inquired  if  any 


262      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

one  would  have  more  of  the  dessert;  she  learned  to 
address  Delia  with  consideration.  I  left  it  to  my  pu 
pil  to  suggest  that  we  adjourn  to  the  living-room  at 
the  close  of  our  meals.  I  made  her  pour  the  coffee 
into  our  tiny  best  china  cups. 

The  effect  of  all  this  training  upon  myself  was  as 
miraculous  as  upon  Madge.  You  don't  know  what 
confidence  in  a  subject  it  gives  you  to  teach  it.  I  hon 
estly  believe  Madge  did  Will  and  me  about  as  much 
good  as  we  did  her.  Our  meal-times  became  regular 
little  models  of  perfection  —  quiet  voices,  good  con 
versation,  and  manners  fit  for  a  queen.  I  began  to 
dress  every  evening  for  the  ceremony,  as  an  example 
for  Madge,  and  it  was  then  that  Will  who  entered 
into  the  game  beautifully  began  changing  every  night 
into  a  dinner  coat.  The  fussy  little  frills  —  candle 
light  and  coffee  served  in  the  living-room,  which  I 
had  spurned  after  leaving  Edith  —  I  returned  to  for 
Madge's  sake.  For  her  (for  I  discovered  that  my 
pupil  considered  me  as  a  model  of  all  that  is  proper 
and  correct)  I  dressed  myself  with  greatest  care  — 
spotless  white  kid-gloves,  carefully  adjusted  veil,  neat 
and  well-kept  boots  —  and  sallied  forth  to  pay  some 
calls.  As  an  example  to  Madge  I  invariably  inquired 
what  time  Will  would  return  in  the  evening  and  made 
a  point  of  arriving  at  the  house  at  least  a  half-hour 
before  him,  so  that  he  might  find  me  calm,  quiet  and 
freshly  attired,  like  a  lady  leisurely  awaiting  her  lord, 
in  an  apartment  as  neat  and  well-kept  as  the  library 
of  his  Club.  I  didn't  allow  myself  to  slump  awk 
wardly  into  a  comfortable  chair  in  his  presence,  nor 
yawn  and  stretch  my  arms.  I  even  tucked  away  the 
horrid,  red  worsted  bedroom  slippers  and  from  my 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      263 

supply  of  unused  negligees  drew  forth  a  blue  china- 
silk  kimono.  There  was  a  pink  one  like  it  which  I 
gave  to  Madge.  Her  eyes  sparkled  as  they  fell  upon 
it.  "  Save  it  till  Oliver  comes,"  I  said,  and  I,  who 
had  scoffed  in  my  heart  at  Ruth's  and  Edith's  conver 
sation  which  took  place  in  that  same  guest-room  of 
mine  eight  months  before,  repeated  their  very  words, 
as  if  they  had  left  them  printed  on  the  walls.  "  You 
mustn't  be  the  kind  to  grow  careless  before  your  hus 
band.  A  man  likes  a  woman  to  be  dainty  whether 
he  is  married  to  her  or  not.  A  man  likes  to  be  proud 
of  his  wife,"  I  repeated  parrot-like.  Oh,  you  see, 
there  was  more  than  one  conversion  taking  place 
that  spring  in  the  ugly  brown  house  in  the  unfash 
ionable  street,  and  the  greater  of  these  was  not,  in 
my  estimation,  that  of  the  little  country  girl  from 
Glennings  Falls,  Vermont. 


CHAPTER  XX 

WILL  and  I  used  to  run  up  to  Hilton  for  over 
Sunday  very  often.  But  when  Edith  found 
out  that  Oliver  had  gone  to  South  America  and 
Madge  had  remained  with  us,  she  wrote  to  me  imme 
diately  and  warned  me  never  to  attempt  "  to  cram  the 
girl  down  her  throat."  She  had  no  idea  of  ever  rec 
ognising  Oliver's  wife  as  any  connection  of  hers.  If 
Will  and  I  came  up  to  Hilton  she  must  ask  us  to  leave 
our  preposterous  protegee  behind. 

I  didn't  see  that  it  would  hurt  Edith  any  to  be  for 
mally  courteous  to  Madge.  She  needn't  have  become 
intimate.  I  didn't  expect  Madge  to  be  invited  every 
where  I  went.  I  didn't  take  her  anywhere  with  me 
in  my  social  life  at  the  university.  But  I  did  think 
that  Edith  was  neglecting  her  duty  as  a  woman  to 
ignore  Alec's  own  brother's  wife,  whoever  she  was. 
It  was  almost  inevitable  to  avoid  the  growth  of  a  feel 
ing  of  hostility  between  Edith  and  me;  but  I  did  want 
to  escape  an  open  break.  I  didn't  want  to  quarrel 
about  Madge,  so  whenever  I  saw  Edith  I  tried  to 
overlook  the  existence  of  any  bone  of  contention  be 
tween  us.  I  made  a  point  of  running  up  to  Hilton 
very  often  for  the  day,  and  tried  to  refer  to  Madge 
in  a  natural,  open,  frank  sort  of  manner  that  made 
little  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation.  I  didn't  go 
to  Hilton  to  court  trouble,  I  assure  you.  I  made  my 
fortnightly  trips  for  the  express  purpose  of  promot 
ing  family  peace  and  harmony. 

264 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      265 

The  arrival  of  Edith's  baby  was  only  about  a 
month  off  when  I  went  up  to  carry  her  a  little  afghan 
I  had  crocheted.  I  found  her  unpacking  some  baby 
scales  and  the  most  elaborate  weighing  basket  I  ever 
saw.  It  was  all  beruffled  and  trimmed  with  artificial 
rosebuds  around  the  edge.  It  was  when  I  stood  off 
and  admired  it  that  I  remarked  with  a  sigh,  and  in 
the  most  offhand  way  in  the  world,  that  I  guessed 
Madge's  baby  would  have  to  be  weighed  on  the 
kitchen  scales  if  at  all.  I  meant  it  as  a  kind  of  trib 
ute  to  Edith's  basket.  Besides  I  thought  it  a  good 
idea  to  refer  to  Madge's  expectations.  It  seemed 
more  friendly  to  the  family  to  take  them  into  my  con 
fidence  in  such  a  matter. 

You  would  have  thought  a  bomb  had  gone  off  in 
the  room. 

"  That  creature  going  to  have  a  baby !  "  Edith  ex 
claimed. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "Just  think  of  it!  Oliver  with  a 
little  son  or  daughter !  " 

Edith  turned  suddenly  upon  me. 

"  Oh,  I  see !  "  she  flashed.  "  I  see !  A  son  in 
deed!  So  that's  the  story!  I  suppose  the  girl  has 
her  eyes  on  that  three  thousand,  without  doubt.  De 
signing  little  minx !  " 

"  Why,  your  baby  comes  first,  Edith,"  I  replied. 
"Of  course  if  you  shouldn't  get  the  prize,  I  think 
Madge  could  make  pretty  good  use  of  three  thou 
sand  dollars.  She  probably  needs  it  more  than  you." 

"  Oh !  So  you  hope  I  won't  have  a  boy !  That's 
it.  Very  well.  We'll  see.  You  hope  — " 

"  Why,  Edith,"  I  interrupted,  "  I  don't  hope  any 
thing  of  the  sort.  I  — " 


266      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  We'll  see  if  this  girl  of  Oliver's  has  any  right 
to  that  money,"  Edith  went  on  excitedly.  "  We'll 
see  about  that.  When  is  her  precious  baby  expected? 
Too  soon  for  decency's  sake,  I  suppose  —  horrid, 
common  little  — " 

I  flushed.  "  Edith  Vars,"  I  fired,  "  don't  you  im 
ply  anything  like  that  about  Madge.  Don't  you 
dare!" 

I  was  angry  now  and  Edith  knew  it.  She  seemed 
to  glory  in  it,  for  she  prodded  me  again  with  another 
false  accusation  against  Madge,  and  before  I  could 
stop  it  we  were  quarrelling  dreadfully.  I  don't  re 
member  all  we  said  to  each  other  that  morning  in 
Edith's  room,  but  I  know  our  words  came  thick  and 
fast ;  I  know  our  voices  shook  with  our  fury,  and  that 
we  glared  at  each  other  across  the  expanse  of  the 
snowy  bed  with  actual  hatred  in  our  eyes.  It  all 
ended  by  Edith's  suddenly  flinging  herself  face  down 
upon  the  pillows,  and  bursting  into  awful  sobs.  Not 
until  then  did  I  realise  that  my  sister-in-law  was  not 
well,  nor  quite  herself  these  days  —  I  had  never  seen 
her  cry  before  in  my  life  —  and  frightened  I  went 
out  of  the  room  to  call  for  help. 

That  noon  Alec  sent  for  a  doctor,  and  half  an  hour 
later  it  was  announced  that  Edith  had  a  temperature. 
A  gained  nurse  appeared  at  four  o'clock  and  Alec 
called  me  into  the  library. 

He  was  dreadfully  concerned  about  the  conse 
quences  of  my  news  in  regard  to  Madge;  I  shouldn't 
have  mentioned  it,  it  seems;  it  might  be  the  cause 
of  the  most  dreadful  results  —  he  couldn't  tell. 
Edith  was  very  excitable  just  now.  I  ought  to  have 
known  better.  He  blamed  me  wholly.  I  had  been 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      267 

careless,  inconsiderate  and  cruel.  I  had  better  leave 
for  home  as  soon  as  possible.  The  thought  of  me  in 
the  house  annoyed  and  disturbed  Edith  even  now; 
she  had  inquired  three  times  if  I  had  gone.  Alec 
had  ordered  the  automobile;  I  could  catch  the  five- 
thirty  if  I  hurried.  He  wished  I  hadn't  come  to  see, 
Edith  at  all ;  she  had  been  so  well ;  everything  had  ap 
peared  very  favourable  before  my  arrival ;  Alec 
couldn't  understand  my  attitude  toward  Edith  any 
way;  she  had  done  everything  for  Ruth  and  me  (had 
I  forgotten  my  wedding?)  and  I  paid  her  back  with 
gratitude  like  this! 

I  didn't  reply  to  my  brother.  Alec  and  I  had  trav 
elled  too  many  miles  in  opposite  directions  to  un 
derstand  each  other  now.  A  bitter  antagonism  arose 
in  my  heart  against  Edith.  I  should  have  quarrelled 
with  Alec  too  had  I  opened  my  mouth  to  speak.  I 
went  out  and  got  into  the  automobile  without  a  re 
tort,  and  as  I  whisked  out  of  the  driveway  and  looked 
back  at  Edith's  curtained  windows,  a  wicked  wish 
was  born  in  my  heart.  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  hope  it 
will  be  a  girl.  'Twould  serve  her  exactly  right." 

It  was,  however,  a  pretty  discouraged  ambassador 
of  peace  who  crawled  back  to  her  little  brown  refuge 
that  night  about  eight  o'clock.  Will  was  sitting  by 
the  fire  reading  a  big  book,  his  hair  all  ruffled  up  as 
it  always  is  when  he  reads.  Madge  had  gone  upstairs 
to  bed.  The  comfortable  lamp-light,  the  dear,  homely 
black  walnut  furniture,  Will's  quiet  sympathy,  never 
seemed  more  precious  to  me  than  that  night. 

"  O  Will,"  I  said  tearfully  when  he  kissed  me, 
"  I've  quarrelled  with  Edith  and  Alec.  And,  oh, 
dear,  it  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world  I  meant  to  do.'* 


268      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said  and  laid  aside  his  big 
book.  I  took  its  place  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and 
told  him  my  story.  After  he  had  rung  up  Edith's 
doctor  by  telephone  and  found  that  there  wasn't 
cause  for  alarm,  he  came  back  to  me  and  called  me 
"  young  wildcat  "  which  sweet  words  were  music  to 
my  ears.  I  knew  at  the  sound  of  them  that  Will 
didn't  consider  the  quarrel  serious.  "  It  will  all 
blow  over  in  a  week.  You  see !  "  he  laughed,  and  I 
went  to  sleep  comforted. 

But  it  didn't  blow  over.  That  fateful  visit  of 
mine  marked  the  beginning  of  an  understood  family 
war.  Clouds  of  trouble  grew  thicker  instead  of  blow 
ing  away.  The  very  next  evening  I  received  a  brief 
note  from  Alec  asking  that  I  postpone  any  more  vis 
its  to  Hilton  until  after  Edith's  illness.  Ruth  wrote 
she  couldn't  understand  me  in  the. least;  she  thought 
it  was  dreadful  that  Madge  was  going  to  have  a  child 
anyway,  but  if  she  got  Father's  three  thousand  dol 
lars  it  would  be  the  unjustest  thing  that  ever  hap 
pened  !  Tom  —  even  fair-minded  Tom  from  out 
West  —  told  me  to  remember  that  Oliver's  marriage 
had  been  rather  out-of-order,  and  asked  me  if  I  was 
championing  a  cause  I  could  call  worthy.  When 
Ruth  ran  across  me  one  day  in  town  a  fortnight  later 
she  treated  me  like  a  bare  acquaintance.  Alec  went 
so  far  as  to  cancel  a  Saturday  golf  engagement  with 
Will.  Long  distance  telephone  calls  between  our 
houses  came  to  an  abrupt  end.  Malcolm  from  New 
York  bluntly  referred  to  the  "  family  row." 

I  didn't  tell  Madge  about  the  trouble  brewing  in 
our  family.  I  never  even  imparted  to  her  the  knowl 
edge  of  the  premium  to  be  paid  for  the  first  Vars 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      269 

grandson.  Silently  I  sat  with  her  sewing  by  the 
hour  on  her  meagre  little  outfit  of  five  nainsook  slips, 
three  flannel  Gertrudes,  two  bands,  two  shirts,  and 
three  flannellette  night-gowns,  with  never  a  word  of 
my  eager  thoughts.  I  became  very  loyal  to  the 
cause  I  had  chosen  to  defend.  It  didn't  trouble  me 
that  our  little  baby-clothes  were  so  much  plainer 
than  Edith's,  for  night  and  day,  day  and  night,  I 
was  hoping  against  hope,  wishing  against  chance,  will 
ing  and  frantically  demanding  that  Madge's  splen 
dour  might  lie  in  hei*  victory. 

You  can  imagine  the  ecstatic  state  of  excitement  I 
was  thrown  into  when  the  news  of  the  arrival  of 
Edith's  nine-pound  daughter  reached  me  some  six 
weeks  after  my  last  visit  to  Hilton. 

I  must  have  felt  a  good  deal  like  the  supporters  of 
a  weaker  foot-ball  team  when  their  side  makes  the 
first  touchdown.  I  could  have  thrown  up  my  hat 
with  joy;  I  could  have  shouted  myself  hoarse. 
Madge  had  an  opportunity!  Madge  had  a  chance! 
It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true,  and  I  longed  to  share 
with  Madge  the  triumph  so  nearly  hers.  But  Will 
was  afraid  she  might  worry  and  fret  about  it,  — 
there  was,  of  course,  the  possibility  of  disappoint 
ment,  —  so  I  followed  his  advice  and  kept  on  build 
ing  my  air-castles  in  secret. 

It  was  on  November  twenty-first  that  Madge's  lit 
tle  child  was  born.  We  had  written  to  Oliver  in 
June  and  he  had  started  on  his  homeward  journey  as 
soon  as  Madge's  belated  letter  reached  him,  some 
time  in  August.  He  had  tramped  a  hundred  miles 
down  a  tropical  river,  had  lain  sick  for  five  weeks 
with  a  fever  in  a  native  camp,  had  dragged  himself 


270      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

in  a  weakened  condition  twenty  miles  farther  on  to 
the  coast,  and  finally  had  caught  a  slow-travelling 
ifreight-boat  bound  for  Spain.  Blown  out  of  its 
course,  becalmed,  disabled  by  a  terrific  storm,  Oliver 
never  saw  the  coast  of  Europe  until  well  into  No 
vember.  His  mite  of  a  child  was  two  weeks  old  be 
fore  he  reached  home. 

Oliver  had  done  well  down  there  fji  South  America. 
Reports  of  his  ability  had  reached  the  Boston  office 
months  before  Oliver  himself  appeared.  It  seems 
that  Oliver's  chief  had  written  a  long  letter  telling  all 
about  the  ingenuity  which  young  Vars  had  shown  in 
working  out  some  technical  problem  connected  with  a 
suspension  bridge  down  there.  I  told  you  Oliver's 
line  was  civil  engineering.  The  Boston  office  in 
formed  Will  they  had  offered  Vars  a  good  position 
right  here  at  home  with  a  salary  that  he  could  live 
on.  I  was  delighted,  and  as  soon  as  we  learned  that 
he  had  started  for  God's  country,  I  began  to  hunt  up 
apartments. 

I  wanted  Oliver  to  see  for  himself  and  by  himself 
what  a  perfect  little  housekeeper  —  what  a  lovely  lit 
tle  creature,  simple  as  she  was,  he  had  chanced  to  pick 
out  up  there  in  the  mountains  of  Vermont.  I  hon 
estly  began  to  fear  Oliver  wouldn't  appreciate  half 
of  the  delicate  points  that  Madge  had  developed.  I 
wished  I  could  give  my  brother  a  course  of  training 
too.  He  is  the  kind  to  be  rather  impolite  inside  the 
walls  of  his  own  domain.  I  selected  for  Madge  and 
Oliver  a  suburb  where  the  rents  were  not  high,  about 
half  an  hour  by  trolley  from  Boston.  I  planned  to 
have  Madge  well  established  in  her  own  five  sunny 
little  rooms  before  the  arrival  of  either  her  husband 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      271 

or  child.  From  my  safe-full  of  silver  and  attic-full 
of  Will's  furniture,  which  I  couldn't  use,  I  could 
easily  have  set  up  two  brides  at  housekeeping.  I  sent 
over  a  whole  load  of  things  from  our  house  to 
Madge's  and  we  spent  days  afterward  settling  the 
darling  little  rooms.  On  November  twenty-first  I 
went  over  to  the  apartment  alone.  Madge  had  com 
plained  of  not  feeling  very  well  and  I  didn't  want  her 
to  get  all  tired  out  before  she  actually  moved  the  fol 
lowing  week.  The  kitchen  utensils  were  waiting  to 
be  washed  and  set  in  rows  on  the  cupboard  shelves, 
so  I  started  out  straight  after  breakfast  and  spent  the 
whole  day  "  playing  house  "  there  alone.  I  didn't  get 
back  until  after  seven  o'clock  at  night.  Will  must 
have  been  watching  for  me,  for  he  met  me  at  the 
door.  The  instant  I  entered  the  house  I  knew  some 
thing  unexpected  had  happened.  There  was  a  white 
pillow  on  the  couch  in  the  living-room.  I  smelled 
ether. 

"  Will,"  I  said  all  weak  in  my  knees,  "  where's 
Madge?  What's  happened?  " 

He  closed  the  living-room  door  and  turned  up  the 
gas. 

"  She's  all  right,  dear.  We  didn't  send  for  you, 
because  there  was  nothing  you  could  do.  I  was  here 
all  the  time." 

"You  mean—"  I  began.  "Will,"  I  said,  and 
then  my  mind  leaped  over  a  league  of  details  to  one 
question,  and  after  I  had  asked  it  Will  took  my  hands 
and  replied  gently : 

"  No,  dear,  a  sweet  little  girl." 

I  couldn't  answer  at  first.  I  crumpled  down  in  a 
heap  in  Will's  big  chair. 


272      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  I  ever  really,  really 
wanted,"  I  said  brokenly.  "  Oh,  Will,  I  can't  believe 
fate  would  be  so  unkind !  Tell  me  again  —  did  you 
say  a  girl  —  really  a  girl?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  a  fine,  perfect,  lovely  little  girl." 

I  stared  straight  in  front  of  me. 

"  Isn't  it  too  bad,  too  bad,  too  bad,"  I  said.  "  Oh, 
Will !  "  I  broke  out,  and  began  to  cry. 

Will  came  over  and  put  his  arms  around  me. 

"Why,  Bobbie  dear,"  he  said  sadly,  "I  should 
think  the  little  kiddie  was  yours." 

I  couldn't  have  been  more  disappointed  if  it  had 
been.  All  the  victorious  telegrams,  all  the  confident, 
buoyant  notes  to  the  different  members  of  the  family 
were  more  than  useless  now.  The  poor  little  mite  of 
humanity  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  flannel  upstairs  in 
the  sewing-room  in  the  clothes-basket,  which  Madge 
and  I  had  lined  with  muslin,  had  shattered  all  my 
plans  —  had  frustrated  its  poor  little  mother's  only 
chance  for  glory. 

It  was  all  I  could  do  to  muster  up  a  smile  for  poor, 
broken,  beaten  Madge  herself,  when  the  nurse  ush 
ered  me  into  her  bedroom  the  next  day.  I  was  glad 
when  I  saw  her  smiling  up  at  me  from  the  pillows  that 
I  had  not  confided  my  eager  hopes  to  her. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,"  she  said  to  me,  "  it's  a  girl!  I  knew 
you  hoped  it  would  be  a  little  girl,  because  you  were 
so  happy  when  Edith's  baby  came.  And  I  — " 

"  Are  you  glad  ?  "  I  asked  tremblingly,  feeling  like 
a  hypocrite  before  an  angel. 

"I  —  oh,  I  prayed  for  a  girl.  I  wouldn't  know 
what  to  do  with  a  boy.  My  dolls  were  always  girls." 

It   wasn't   until   I    ran   across   Edith,   most   unex- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      273 

pectedly,  several  days  later  in  town,  that  I  woke  up 
to  the  fact  that  that  little  girl  of  Madge's  was  a  bless 
ing  in  disguise.  Edith's  daughter  was  then  about 
three  months  old  and  she  was  flitting  about  again  as 
gay  as  ever,  feathered  and  furred,  stepping  like  a 
horse  who  has  just  had  a  good  rub-down.  I  had  seen 
her  several  times  in  the  last  month.  She  does  all  her 
shopping  in  Boston  and  I  am  often  there  myself.  Of 
course  we  had  spoken,  even  chatted  on  impersonal 
subjects  as  we  chanced  to  meet  here  and  there.  On 
this  particular  day  we  happened  to  find  ourselves  in 
the  drapery  department  of  a  large  department  store 
both  waiting  for  the  elevator  to  take  us  to  the  street. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do?"  she  said  to  me  loftily. 
"  Gorgeous  day,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Fine,"  I  replied. 

And  then  she  asked  evasively,  her  curiosity  getting 
the  better  of  her.  "  How's  everything  at  your  estab 
lishment?  " 

"  Oh,  all  right.  I  have  a  note  already  written  to 
you.  There's  a  new  member  in  our  family,  you 
know." 

I  saw  the  colour  rush  to  Edith's  face. 

"  No !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Really?  "  Then  arming 
herself  against  a  dreaded  blow  she  gasped,  "  Which 
is  it?" 

"  A  girl,"  I  hated  to  announce ;  "  born  Thursday." 

"A  girl!  Did  you  say  a  girl?"  Edith's  voice 
broke  into  a  nervous  laugh.  "  Lucy  Vars,  has 
Oliver's  wife  a  little  girl?  Is  she  dreadfully  disap 
pointed?  How  is  she?  When  was  it?  How  much 
does  it  weigh?  A  girl!  Well,  well,  is  it  possible?" 
Her  eyes  were  fairly  glowing  now. 


2/4       IW>mHK,  (.KNKHAL  MANA(JKK 

I    followed  her  into  tin-  elev.il'  >i 

"Yon  mean  it?  You  .iim'!  fooling?  'Iliis  isn't 
n  joke?"  she  exclaimed  as  we  dropped  a  floor. 

"  No,"   1   assured  her. 

"  I'oor  thin};!  I '(.or  tiling!"  she  ejaculated  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "A  girl.  A  girl!"  She  found  my 
hand  and  gave  it  an  eager  little  squeeze.  "  Won't 
Oliver  he  just  too  ente  with  a  daughter?"  she 

bubbled, 

Hy  the  time  we  reaehed  the  j;roniid  lloor,  she  had 
slipped  her  arm  through  mine. 

"  You've  go!  to  eome  and  have  Inneh  with  me, 
Kohhie  Vars,"  she  said.  "  Let's  let  bygones  he  by 
gones.  1  hate  lights.  I'm  tired  to  death  putting  my 
self  out  to  be  disagreeable.  Heavens!  I  ean  hardly 
wait  to  tell  Alee.  A  little  girl!  "  She  led  me  out  into 
the  street.  "  I'm  starved,"  she  ran  on.  "  We'll 
blow  oinselves  to  the  best  luncheon  in  this  town.  1 
\\.ini  to  know  all  the  details  —  every  one.  Do  you 
know  I  fell  in  my  bones  she  would  have  a  daughter, 
and  I  simply  never  make  a  mistake;  and  by  the  way, 
way  down  in  my  boots,  /  wanted  a  girl  myself.  I 
.vd/(/  I  preferred  a  boy,  but  that  was  talk.  You  ean 
dress  girls  up  in  such  darling  clothes.  That's  what 
I'm  telling  people  anyhow,"  she  confided  frankly. 
"  Remember,  should  any  one  ask." 

In  spite  of  the  many  things  about  Kdith  T  do  not 
like,  she  has  sonic  splendid  qualities.  "Look  line." 
she  ejaculated  abruptly.  "  I  believe  I'll  send  that  p.-oi 
little  creature  of  Oliver's  some  (lowers.  1  don't  sup 
pose  she  li.r;  many.  Come  on  in  heir.  I'.obbie,  and 
help  me  pick  out  something  stunning!" 

Next  Wednesday   Ruth  'phoned   from  town.     Kri- 


,  (,l  \LKAL  MAN.U.'KH       275 

(lay  she  came  out   for  dinner,  ami  not  very  lout;  after 
ward,     the    expressman     left     a     lovely     embroidered 
baby's  eo.it  aiul  e.ip  "  for  the  dear  little  daughter,"  it 
saiil   on    Kilith's   visiting-card   in   her  hold    unmist.ik 
ahle  handwriting. 

It  was  Oliver  himself,  who  had  heen  at  home  about 
t\\o  days,  who  opened  the  package,  lie  and  I  were 
alone  in  the  living-room,  lie  thished  when  hi»s  eyes 
fell  upon  the  earcl. 

"So  Kdith-    "  he  began. 

"  Yes."  I  assured  him;  "and  the  roses  on  M. !>!••> '. 
bureau  are  from  I'dith  too." 

lie  thing  the  eard  down  on  the  table  and  e.nne  over 
and  stood  before  me. 

"  Look  here.  Hobble,"  he  said.  "  1  must  h.-ve  been 
completely  run  down  or  something,  helou*  I  went 
away.  I  don't  know  what  ailed  me.  Kverything 
botheii-d  me  horribly,  and  to  think  I  took  it  out  so  on 
poor  little  Mad;-/-,  \\liv.  Madgo  —  Say,  Hobble, 
isn't  Madge-  lie  stopped.  "Pshaw!"  he  went 

on,  "  I've  known  a  lot  of  girls  in  my  day  but  not  one 
to  eome  np  to   Madge.      Hid   I   ever  tell  yon  how  she 
ran  eook  ?     Like  a  streak!     Yon  ought  to  see  her  ar 
range   lloweis   in   the   middle  of  the  table.      Looks  as 
if   they    were   i;rowing!      Madi-.e   is    worth    twenlv    so 
ciety  girls.     Could   Knth   run  a   vegetable  garden,  do 
yon  think?     Could  her  boarding-school  friends  go  into 
the  village  store  and  run  the  accounts  when  the  reg 
nlar  girl's  oil'  on  a  vacation?     Madge  can!     1  knew 
she    would    learn    citv     ways    and    manners    quickly 
enough  once  she  was  here.      1    L'ii<";c  it.      And   say 
isn't  she  pretty?      Isn't  she  simply        lovely   with  the 
kid?      Humph-    '   he   broke   oil',    picking1   up    Kdilh'.s 


276      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

card  and  tossing  it  down  again.  "  I  knew  the  family 
couldn't  help  but  like  Madge  once  they  knew  her,  and 
I'm  mighty  glad !  " 

"  So  am  I,  Oliver.  She's  got  the  loveliest,  sweet 
est  disposition!  Sometimes  I've  been  afraid  that  you 
would  be  the  one  not  to  appreciate  it.  She's  thinking 
a  lot  how  to  make  you  happy,  Oliver.  Her  head  is 
full  of  schemes  and  little  devices  to  please  and  sat 
isfy  you;  and  I've  been  wondering  if  you've  been 
thinking  up  little  ways  to  please  her.  Sometimes  mar 
ried  people  take  it  for  granted  that  schemes  and 
methods  and  contrivances  for  happiness  are  su 
perfluous,  if  they  love  each  other;  but  7  believe  that 
new  love  needs  just  about  as  much  care  and  tending 
as  that  little  helpless  baby  in  there.  I  hope  you  think 
so  too,  Oliver." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I'd  thought  much  about  it.  I'm 
not  much  of  a  philosopher  on  such  subjects.  Things 
come  to  me  in  flashes,  and  they  stick  too.  I  remem 
ber  the  last  time  I  ever  had  a  real  good  old  time  with 
the  college  crowd  was  at  Ruth's  party,  two  or  three 
years  ago.  I  drank  more  than  was  good  for  me  that 
night  and  when  I  came  to  go  upstairs  about  four 
A.  M.,  right  there  on  the  landing  waiting  for  me  was 
Father.  Somebody  had  left  his  picture  lighted  up, 
you  know,  and  it  was  absolutely  gruesome  how  he 
stared  down  at  me  out  of  his  frame  —  like  a  ghost  or 
something.  I  never  forgot  it.  I  tried  to  get  the  fel 
lows  to  put  out  the  light,  but  they  couldn't  find  the 
switch.  It  was  horrible  to  struggle  up  in  front  of 
Father  in  my  condition  —  I  can't  explain  it ;  but  from 
that  day  to  this  I've  never  been  able  to  enjoy  that 
sort  of  a  time  since.  I've  never  taken  more  than  I 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      277 

should  since  that  night,  and  I  never  shall  again.  I'm 
sure  of  myself  now." 

"  Isn't  it  splendid  to  live  on  in  the  way  Father 
does  ?  "  I  remarked  quietly. 

"  Well,"  went  on  Oliver,  "  the  first  sight  of  Madge 
in  there  with  the  baby  was  like  that  lighted  picture 
of  Father.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean?  It  flashed 
over  me,  '  Heavens,  I've  got  to  amount  to  something 
now  anyhow'  and  those  flashes  stick,  as  I  said.  I 
'shall  amount  to  something.  See  if  I  don't!"  He 
stopped  a  moment,  embarrassed.  "  I  don't  know  as 
you  understand  at  all  about  that  picture  of  Father, 
and  Madge  in  bed  in  there,  as  if  they  had  any  con 
nection.  They  haven't,  only  — " 

"  I  do  understand,  Oliver,"  I  said ;  "  I  do  perfectly. 
And  I'm  so  glad  and  happy  and  proud !  I  always  felt 
you  had  it  in  you !  " 

About  a  week  later  Edith  called  me  up  from  Bos 
ton. 

"Hello,"  she  said.  "You,  Bobbie?  It's  Edith. 
Ruth  and  I  are  in  town.  We've  just  had  lunch.  I've 
got  to  go  to  the  tailor's  at  two,  but  we  thought  later 
we  might  come  out  and  see  the  baby."  ("  It's 
Edith,"  I  whispered  excitedly  to  Will  with  my  hand 
over  the  receiver.)  "  Will  it  be  all  right?  " 

"  Surely,"  I  called  back.     "  Come  right  ahead." 

"  Is  Madge  able  to  see  people  yet?  "  ("  She  wants 
to  see  Madge,"  I  told  Will.)  "Oh,  yes!  She 
comes  downstairs  every  afternoon  now.  We'll  expect 
you  —  good-bye." 

I  hung  up  the  receiver,  and  went  into  the  butler's 
pantry  to  prepare  my  tea-tray.  Ten  minutes  later  I 
casually  remarked  to  Madge : 


278      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Edith  and  Ruth  are  coming  out 
this  afternoon.  I  think  I  shall  ask  you  to  pour  tea, 
Madge." 

"  All  right,"  she  replied  quietly,  like  a  little  stoic. 
"  I  understand.  I'll  do  my  very  best,  Lucy." 

I  felt  something  of  the  same  tremulous  pride  of  a 
mother  listening  to  her  daughter  deliver  a  valedictory 
at  a  high  school  graduation,  as  I  watched  Madge  at 
the  tea-table  that  afternoon.  Her  parted  hair,  simply 
knotted  behind,  pale  cheeks  tinged  with  a  little  colour, 
her  frail  hands  among  the  tea-cups,  her  shy  timid  man 
ner,  were  all  lovely  to  behold.  Oliver,  from  the 
piano-stool,  glowed  with  pride ;  Edith  and  Ruth,  from 
the  couch,  could  not  fail  to  appreciate  the  careful, 
calm,  and  correct  collection  of  napkin,  plate,  tea-cup 
and  spoon.  Edith  has  a  great  faculty  for  observa 
tion.  I  knew  she  was  sizing  up  Madge  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye,  even  as  she  rattled  on  to  me  on  the 
wonders  of  the  little  niece  in  Hilton  whom  I  had 
never  seen. 

She  and  Ruth  stayed  until  just  time  to  connect 
with  the  six-thirty  train  for  Hilton.  It  was  closeted 
in  my  room  that  Edith  said  to  me  in  her  erratic  way, 
"  My  dear,  I  never  saw  such  a  change  in  any  living 
mortal.  Do  you  realise  that  having  that  baby  has 
simply  made  that  girl  over?  It's  wonderful  —  put( 
refinement  into  her.  Why,  really,  one  wouldn't  guess 
the  child's  origin  now.  Listen  to  me.  I've  decided 
to  invite  the  whole  family  bunch,  as  usual,  for  Christ 
mas  (one  may  as  well  be  forgiving  in  this  short  life, 
I've  concluded)  ;  so  I  came  to  have  a  look  at  Madge. 
She  isn't  half  bad,  you  know.  I  had  a  nice  little  chat 
alone  with  her  when  you  were  showing  Ruth  the  baby. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      279 

She  says  she  was  simply  crazy  for  a  girl,  and  I  think 
she  means  it.  She  isn't  as  impossible  as  I  feared  — 
not  half.  All  she  needs  are  some  clothes  and  I've 
gotten  it  into  my  head  to  take  her  to  my  own  dress 
maker  in  town.  One  may  as  well  be  generous,  Lucy. 
Besides,  if  the  girl  comes  to  the  house  at  Christmas 
she  must  dress  decently.  I've  a  good  mind  to  take 
the  little  thing  in  hand  myself  and  polish  her  up  a 
little.  She's  pretty  enough.  You  see,"  Edith  broke 
off,  "  Breck  Sewall  will  probably  be  around  Christmas 
time —  won't  it  be  wonderful  if  he  should  marry 
Ruth  ?  —  and  I  simply  had  to  have  a  look  at  Madge 
before  inviting  her.  However,  I  really  think  she'll 
do." 

The  instant  the  door  had  closed  on  Edith  I  rushed 
back  to  Madge.  I  threw  my  arms  about  her. 

"  You've  passed  your  preliminaries,  dear  child ! "  I 
said  and  kissed  her  hard. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DID  you  ever  attempt  to  buy  a  lot  of  fifteen  thou 
sand  feet  at  fifty  cents  a  foot,  and  build  a  house 
on  it  of  twelve  rooms,  three  baths,  a  shower,  a  sleep 
ing-porch  and  a  small  unpretentious  garage  for  four 
teen  thousand  dollars?  This  isn't  an  example  in 
mental  arithmetic,  but  it  was  a  problem  Will  and  I 
laboured  over  every  March  and  April  for  three  suc 
cessive  springs,  before  deciding  each  year  to  stay  on 
for  another  twelve  months  in  our  old  rented  brown 
box,  gas-lighted  and  tin-tubbed.  I  am  not  going  to 
explain  how  such  a  problem  can  be  solved,  because 
frankly  I  don't  know. 

Will  is  a  regular  miracle-performer  in  some  lines. 
He'll  work  for  hours  over  some  knotty  proposition  in 
his  laboratory,  and  come  home  from  the  hospital 
simply  glowing  with  enthusiasm  over  the  successful 
onslaught  of  a  squad  of  his  well-trained  microbes  upon 
an  unruly  lot  of  beasts  who  were  making  life  miser 
able  for  a  poor  man  almost  dying  with  carbuncles. 
The  medical  journals  describe  Dr.  William  Ford 
Maynard's  accomplishments  as  miraculous.  How 
ever,  I  can  vouch  that  he  is  utterly  unable  to  perform 
any  feats  with  wood  and  plaster  and  plumbers'  sup 
plies.  Two  hours  working  over  our  house-plans  used 
to  exhaust  Will  more  than  four  days  solid  in  his  lab 
oratory.  He  said  there  was  more  hope  in  discovering 
the  haunts  of  the  wary  meningitis  microbe  than  in 

280 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      281 

finding  a  contractor  who  would  build  us  a  house  at 
our  price. 

Will  and  I  adored  our  first  little  home,  of  course, 
but  then  there  were  disadvantages.  Every  time  it 
rained  I  had  to  put  a  basin  in  the  middle  of  my  bed  — 
in  case  the  roof  leaked  —  and  the  fireplaces  did  smoke 
when  you  first  lit  them,  and  the  kitchen  stove  did 
need  a  new  lining.  The  owner  was  awfully  disagree 
able  about  repairs,  and  after  we  had  been  vainly  plead 
ing  for  three  months  solid  for  a  new  brick  or  two 
in  a  disabled  chimney,  which  threatened  to  burn  down 
the  house,  we  began  to  consider  moving.  We  didn't 
intend  to  build.  We  thought  it  would  cost  too  much. 
We  didn't  even  intend  to  buy.  We  simply  wanted  to 
find  something  better  to  rent. 

Rummaging  about  among  second-hand  houses  is 
very  depressing,  I  can  tell  you.  Some  of  the  same 
old  arks  that  had  been  on  the  market  when  we  were 
first  married,  were  still  without  a  master,  like  certain 
wrecks  of  servants  who  haunt  intelligence-offices. 
Dilapidated  run-down  old  things  —  I  hate  the  very 
thought  of  them !  They  have  a  musty,  dead-rat  sort 
of  odour  that's  far  from  welcoming  when  you  enter 
their  darkened  halls.  You  always  wonder  if  it's  the 
plumbing  and  ask  why  the  last  people  left.  And  oh, 
the  closets  in  those  houses  —  little,  black  horrid  holes ! 
I  used  to  pull  open  their  doors,  and  time  and  again 
find  some  sort  of  human  paraphernalia  left  behind  on 
one  of  the  hooks  —  a  man's  battered  straw  hat,  or 
once,  I  remember,  a  solitary  pair  of  discarded  corsets. 
Spattered  places  in  the  bedrooms,  paths  worn  on  the 
hardwood  floors,  ink  spots,  grease  spots,  and  on  the 
walls  an  accurate  pattern  of  the  arrangement  of  the 


282      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

last  family's  pictures,  actually  offended  me.  I've  heard 
that  robins  will  never  take  possession  of  a  last  year's 
birds'  nest.  I  know  exactly  how  they  feel  about 
them.  Oh,  it  isn't  inspiring  to  hunt  for  a  home 
among  other  people's  cast-offs.  Will  and  I  were 
awfully  discouraged  after  we  had  inspected  the 
fifteenth  impossibility  —  a  dreadful  affair  with  high 
ceilings,  elaborately  stencilled,  and  in  the  corners  of 
each  room  little  arched  plaster  grooves  designed  for 
statuary.  For  six  months  Will  and  I  searched  in  vain 
for  the  sweet,  clean  little  ready-made  cottage  of  our 
dreams,  shining  in  a  fresh  coat  of  white  paint,  its 
perennial  garden  in  full-bloom,  waiting  for  two  nice 
home-loving  people  like  ourselves  to  open  its  gate, 
stroll  up  its  flag-stoned  walk,  and  claim  it  for  our 
own. 

On  our  way  home  from  impossibility  the  fifteenth, 
we  took  a  street  that  had  just  been  cut  through  some 
new  land  where  little  brand  new  houses  were  spring 
ing  up  like  mushrooms.  There  was  one,  a  tiny 
plaster  house  trimmed  with  light  green  blinds  with 
half-moons  cut  in  them,  that  I  thought  was  simply 
adorable.  It  wasn't  completed;  I  could  see  the  work 
men  through  the  open  windows.  The  temporary  pine 
door  stood  open. 

"  Let's  go  in,  for  fun,"  I  suggested,  and  Will  helped 
me  up  the  inclined  plank  that  led  to  the  little  front 
stoop. 

We  stayed  for  a  whole  hour  in  that  house !  It  was 
like  gazing  on  sweet  sixteen;  it  was  simply  refresh 
ing;  we  didn't  know  anything  so  lovely  existed. 
There  was  a  darling  little  bathroom  with  open  plumb 
ing,  and  a  shining  porcelain  tub.  There  was  a  marble 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      283 

slab  for  mixing  in  the  pantry.  The  bedrooms  were 
painted  white.  The  closets,  tiny  though  they  were, 
smelled  of  fresh  plaster.  Will  got  into  conversation 
with  the  contractor  while  I  amused  myself  by  plan 
ning  which  room  I  would  choose  for  ours.  But  the 
house  wasn't  for  rent.  A  man  who  ran  a  fish-market 
was  building  it.  I  saw  Will  get  out  an  old  letter  and 
begin  figuring  on  the  back  of  the  envelope.  That 
place,  lot  and  all,  wasn't  going  to  cost  that  fish  man 
but  ten  thousand  dollars  —  Will  told  me  that  night 
that  we  could  own  a  house  that  cost  fourteen  thou 
sand  and  still  save  money  on  our  rent.  I  was  ex 
cited.  We  didn't  look  at  another  house  to  hire.  We 
dropped  them  as  if  they  were  infected.  The  very 
next  Saturday  afternoon  we  set  out  to  search  for  lots. 
We  weren't  very  particular  at  first.  Any  little 
square  of  ground  that  we  looked  at  with  the  idea  of 
possible  ownership  seemed  perfectly  lovely  to  me;  any 
thing  with  a  tiny  glimpse  of  horizon,  and  a  place  in 
the  back  for  a  garden,  was  like  a  little  piece  of  heaven. 
We  were  both  awfully  easily  pleased  the  first  month. 
There  were  so  many  pretty  places  to  build  on,  we 
simply  didn't  know  which  one  to  choose.  Then  one 
day  the  agent  sent  us  up  to  look  at  some  land  that 
had  just  been  put  on  the  market  at  sixty  cents  a  foot. 
Of  course  it  was  more  than  we  could  pay,  and  we 
went  to  inspect  it  simply  out  of  idle  curiosity.  The 
result  was  that  the  next  day  among  that  whole  town- 
ful  of  open  spaces  and  green  fields,  there  was 
only  one  solitary  spot  that  Will  and  I  wanted  for  our 
own.  You  see  after  we  had  once  climbed  up  on  to 
that  expensive  little  hilltop  and  looked  off  and  seen 
the  view  —  a  round  bowl  of  a  lake  with  a  clump  of 


284      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

pines  beside  it,  and  beyond,  a  hill  with  a  long  ribbon 
of  road  leading  up  to  a  real  New  England  white 
farmhouse  with  a  splash  of  red  barn  beside  it,  we 
couldn't  think  kindly  of  any  other  spot  in  town. 
After  we  had  sat  down  on  the  stone  wall  that  ran 
right  square  through  the  back  of  the  lot,  and  watched 
a  glorious  sunset  reflected  in  the  lake  below,  Will  said, 
"  By  Jove,  we'll  have  this ! "  There  were  six  old 
apple-trees  on  the  lot,  a  wild  cherry  and  a  dear  little 
waif  of  a  pine-tree.  Will  and  I  made  a  solemn  vow 
to  each  other  that  we  would  build  a  cheap  house,  and 
get  along  a  while  longer  with  one  maid  for  the  sake 
of  that  lovely  sunset  every  night  when  we  ate  sup 
per.  I  said  I'd  as  soon  live  in  a  lean-to.  Will  said 
we'd  live  just  where  we  were  for  another  year  until 
we  could  afford  to  put  up  even  a  lean-to.  We  bought 
the  darling  of  our  hearts  seven  days  later.  It  used  up 
over  two-thirds  of  our  fourteen-thousand-dollar  house 
fund. 

We  ate  picnic  suppers  on  our  stone  wall,  and  win 
ter-times  drank  hot  coffee  there  boiled  over  a  tiny 
bon-fire  built  in  the  rocks,  for  three  solid  years  before 
we  began  to  dig  the  cellar  of  our  lean-to.  I  had  holly 
hocks  and  a  whole  row  of  Canterbury-bells  flowering 
in  our  garden  for  two  springs  before  there  was  a 
door  and  some  steps  to  lead  out  to  it.  It's  all  very 
well  to  vow  you'll  build  a  cheap  house,  but  it's  another 
thing  to  do  it.  Of  course  we  had  to  have  plumbing 
and  heat ;  electric  light  fixtures  seemed  a  necessity  too, 
as  well  as  a  few  doors  here  and  there. 

Will  and  I  literally  laboured  over  those  plans. 
They  had  to  undergo  a  dreadful  series  of  operations. 
Every  spring  when  it  seemed  to  us  as  if  we  couldn't 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      285 

endure  another  summer  cooped  up  in  our  noisy,  stone- 
paved,  double-electric-car-tracked  street,  I'd  haul 
down  the  architect's  blue-prints  and  stretch  them  out 
on  a  card-table.  We  amputated  so  much  from  those 
plans  I  wondered  they  held  together.  Of  course  the 
shower-baths  and  the  garage,  oak  floors,  and  a  super-' 
fluous  bathroom  came  off  as  easily  as  fingers;  but 
when  we  began  cutting  out  partitions  here  and  there, 
a  treasured  fireplace  or  two,  two  closets,  and  even  the 
back  stairs,  I  tell  you  it  was  ticklish !  Even  when 
we'd  shaved  off  two  feet  from  the  length  of  the  living- 
room,  four  from  the  dining-room,  and  squeezed  our 
hall  so  that  it  was  only  nine  feet  wide,  even  then  we 
couldn't  find  a  generous-hearted  builder  who  would 
even  try  to  be  reasonable  in  his  charges. 

Our  house  wasn't,  by  the  way,  anything  like  the 
fish  man's.  It  wasn't  a  plaster  house  with  light  green 
blinds,  with  half -moons  cut  in  them.  It  seemed  to 
our  architect  (and  to  me  too,  as  soon  as  he  suggested 
it)  that  the  most  New  England  type  of  house  possible 
—  flat- faced,  clapboarded,  painted  white,  a  hall  in  the 
centre  and  a  room  on  each  side,  would  fit  in  with  those 
apple-trees  better  than  anything  quaint  or  original. 
Oh,  ours  was  just  the  housiest  house  possible,  with 
nothing  odd  about  it  like  oriel  windows,  or  diamond 
trellises,  or  unexpected  bays  and  swells. 

The  first  day  the  plans  arrived  I  did  some  measur 
ing,  and  cut  out  of  cardboard  on  the  same  scale  as 
the  plans,  patterns  of  our  furniture.  That  night  Will 
and  I  moved  into  our  paper  house,  shoving  the  furni 
ture  around  the  rooms  with  lightning  speed,  shifting 
hall-clocks,  davenports,  and  grand  pianos  from  par 
lour  to  bedroom  with  surprising  little  effort.  Whye 


286      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  rearranged  my  rooms  time  and  time  again  before  I 
ever  stepped  foot  in  them.  If  you'll  believe  me,  I 
made  a  complete  new  bedroom  set  for  the  nursery, 
and  a  little  crib  which  I  placed  between  the  windows, 
when  the  real  room  was  only  a  square  block  of  air 
above  the  apple-trees. 

You  can  imagine  how  excited  we  were  when  at  the 
end  of  three  years  we  finally  signed  the  contract  with 
McManus  &  Mann,  Contractors  and  Builders.  We 
were  simply  house-crazy  by  that  time.  I  wanted  to 
celebrate  the  important  occasion  somehow,  so  I  went 
down  to  Mr.  McManus's  office  and  ordered  several 
bundles  of  six-foot-length  laths,  such  as  are  used  in 
plastering  a  room,  to  be  sent  up  to  our  lot  on  Satur 
day  morning.  Will  and  I  always  spend  Saturday 
afternoons  together,  and,  provided  with  the  roll  of 
plans,  a  yard-stick,  a  hatchet  and  my  lunch-basket 
packed  with  tea  and  sandwiches,  we  started  out  about 
two  P.  M.  to  lay  out  our  house,  life  size,  with  the 
laths  on  the  very  spot  where  it  was  so  soon  now  to 
stand.  By  five  o'clock  I  was  serving  tea  before  the 
fireplace  in  the  living-room,  and  apple-blossom  petals 
were  blowing  through  the  kitchen  and  hall  partitions 
into  the  very  cream-pitcher  by  my  side. 

It  was  just  when  the  water  over  my  alcohol  stove 
had  begun  to  boil  that  our  first  guests  arrived.  Dr. 
Van  Breeze  is  married  now,  and  his  wife,  Alice,  and  I 
are  very  good  friends.  For  the  three  years  that  Will 
and  I  had  been  working  on  house-plans  she  had  fol 
lowed  the  changes  in  them  as  if  they  were  hers.  So 
I  'phoned  her  that  I  should  be  delighted  if  she  and 
George  (George  is  Dr.  Van  Breeze)  would  take  tea 
with  us  Saturday  afternoon  at  four-thirty  in  our  new 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      287 

house.  When  they  appeared  in  their  touring-car  at 
the  foot  of  our  hill,  I  saw  that  dear  Dr.  Graham  and 
Mrs.  Graham  were  in  the  back  seat,  and  I  dashed 
through  the  living-room  wall  and  down  to  the  road  to 
meet  them.  Ten  minutes  later  the  Omsteds  arrived 
strolling  up  the  hill  from  their  house  which  is  the 
nearest  one  to  ours.  Will  had  already  arranged  boul 
ders  for  chairs  around  the  fireplace,  and  my  dainty 
little  sandwiches  and  tiny  cream  puffs  were  laid  out 
neatly  on  plates  covered  with  fresh  napkins.  The  tea 
was  hot  and  strong  and  fragrant;  the  decorations  of 
six  trees  full  of  apple-blossoms,  lovely  to  behold;  the 
illumination  of  a  pink  and  blue  sunset,  reflected  in  the 
lake  below,  more  beautiful  than  a  hundred  electric 
lights. 

After  we  had  drank  tea  and  eaten  the  last  cream 
puff,  I  invited  my  guests  to  inspect  the  house.  Every 
one  entered  into  my  little  game.  Dr.  Omsted  made 
us  all  respect  the  partitions  as  if  they  existed;  George 
Van  Breeze  insisted  on  walking  up  the  front  stairs; 
and  dear  Dr.  Graham  found  a  grasshopper  somewhere 
and  exclaimed  chuckling,  "  Oh,  my  dear  Pandora " 
(he  still  calls  me  that  silly  name),  "what  of  your 
housekeeping?  I  saw  dozens  of  these  in  your  pan 
try!" 

Oh,  it  was  just  the  nicest  house-warming  in  the 
world.  I  like  every  one  of  Will's  friends;  they  may 
be  awfully  learned,  but  they  seem  just  plain  natural 
and  unpretentious  to  me.  They  stayed  until  nearly 
six  o'clock.  We  waved  them  good-bye  from  our 
front  door.  When  they  all  had  disappeared  over  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  Will  drew  me  into  our  hall  and 
kissed  me,  just  as  if  there  had  really  been  walls. 


288      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Then  he  came  into  the  living-room  and  helped  me 
clear  up. 

I  haven't  mentioned  yet  the  thorn  I  keep  hidden  in 
my  heart  and  carry  everywhere  I  go.  I  don't  like 
to  talk  of  it  because  Will  doesn't  like  to  have  me,  but 
it  robs  every  joy  I  have  of  completeness.  As  Will 
and  I  strolled  home  that  night  perhaps  we  ought  to 
have  been  very  happy.  We  had  the  best  and  pleas- 
antest  friends  in  the  world  —  I  granted  it ;  ground 
for  our  dream-house  was  to  be  broken  on  Monday 
morning;  we  had  been  married  four  years,  and  loved 
each  other  more  than  ever. 

"  Oh,  Will,  four  years  —  four  long  years,"  I  ex 
claimed,  and  sighed. 

"  Pshaw,"  he  replied,  and  changed  the  subject. 

Ever  since  Madge's  little  baby  was  born,  I've 
wanted  one  of  my  own.  I  didn't  care  before  that, 
but  when  I  held  the  warm  little  thing  in  my  arms  for 
minutes  at  a  time,  dressed  it,  cared  for  it  when  the 
nurse  was  out,  and  listened  to  its  poor  pitiful  little 
cry  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  something  seemed  to 
spring  open  in  me  that  I  can't  close. 

I  want  a  little  daughter-companion  of  my  very 
own!  I  want  to  wash  her,  and  dress  her  and  take 
her  out  with  me.  I  want  her  to  sit  with  me  rainy 
afternoons  in  her  little  rocking-chair  and  play  while 
'I  sew.  I  want  her  to  tell  me  all  her  secrets,  and  I 
want  to  give  her  all  the  love,  all  the  good  times  and 
pretty  things  a  little  girl  wants.  When  Madge  brings 
over  her  Alarjorie,  and  I  see  her  clinging  to  her 
mother's  knee  when  I  come  into  the  room,  I'd  give 
anything  in  the  world  to  have  some  little  girl  cling  to 
me  like  that!  Will  has  always  loved  children;  he  has 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      289 

wanted  them  even  longer  than  I,  though  he  never  told 
me.  Will  affects  indifference  on  the  subject,  but  he 
doesn't  deceive  me  in  the  least.  I  know  the  lurking 
hunger  is  always  in  his  heart  as  it  is  in  mine. 

Why  I  was  so  especially  down-hearted  to-night  as 
•we  walked  home  from  our  tea-party  on  the  hilltop 
was  on  account  of  a  remark  of  Alice  Van  Breeze's 
thrown  off  in  her  quick,  careless  fashion.  I  think 
Will  kissed  me  in  the  hall  to  soothe  a  little  of  the  hurt 
of  Alice's  unconscious  words.  People  who  have  ba 
bies  of  their  own  don't  guess  how  many  times  they 
Stab  those  who  haven't. 

"  What  an  ideal  place  this  is  for  children !  "  Alice 
had  exclaimed.  "  Such  air !  Such  sunshine !  If 
you  don't  mind,  Lucy,"  she  had  caught  herself  up, 
*'  I  shall  bring  Junior  up  here  often  to  get  some  tan 
tn  your  adorable  garden." 

"  Do,"  I  had  said,  looking  away. 

"How  is  the  little  chap?"  Will  had  asked  her 
kindly.  Will  can't  even  talk  about  a  child  without  a 
little  note  of  tenderness  in  his  tone. 

,"  Oh,  he's  perfect !  "  Alice  had  laughed.  "  The 
very  world  revolves  about  him.  Why,  we're  prouder 
of  that  little  bundle  of  bones  and  flesh  than  of  his 
father's  latest  book !  " 

I  didn't  look  at  Will  and  Will  didn't  look  at  me. 
We're  so  filled  with  pity  for  each  other  at  such  mo 
ments  (and  there  are  many  of  them)  that  we  can't 
bear  to  gaze  upon  the  hurt  look  in  the  other's  face. 

Our  whole  sad  little  story  can  be  traced  in  our 
house-plans.  When  we  first  decided  to  build,  we 
talked  bravely  then  about  the  nursery  on  the  sunny 
side;  it  looked  out  towards  the  south  and  east;  it  was 


290      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

large  and  airy,  with  four  big  windows,  and  a  fireplace 
for  chilly  nights.  When  the  first  sketches  arrived  the 
room  was  plainly  labelled  in  printed  letters,  and  I  re 
member  that  the  mere  word  gave  me  a  queer  thrill  of 
joy.  I  had,  as  you  know,  immediately  made  patterns 
of  the  nursery  furniture,  placed  the  paper  crib  in  po 
sition,  and  estimated  the  number  of  steps  from  my  bed 
to  the  baby's.  I  had  had  it  beautifully  planned  for 
contagious  diseases:  Will  could  move  into  the  guest 
room,  and  I  and  the  sick  children  could  be  absolutely 
isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  house,  in  two  lovely 
rooms  with  a  bathroom  of  our  own.  But  I  needn't 
have  planned  on  children's  contagious  diseases. 
There  will  never  be  any  little  children  with  measles, 
or  chicken-pox,  or  whooping-cough  in  our  house,  to 
take  care  of.  I  am  sure  of  it  now.  On  the  last  roll 
of  plans  which  our  architect  submitted  to  us  the  word 
printed  across  the  face  of  the  southeast  room  had 
been  changed  from  Nursery  to  Chamber!  I  think 
Will  must  have  requested  it  and  I  knew  then  with 
awful  finality  that  even  Will  had  given  up  hope.  I 
never  asked  how  or  why  the  room's  name  had  been 
changed.  I  simply  understood  without  asking  and 
cried  it  out  by  myself  in  my  room.  The  next  day  I 
burned  the  nursery  paper  furniture  —  the  crib,  the 
folding  yard,  the  toy-case  like  Edith's  —  in  the  kitchen 
stove,  with  a  pang  as  big  as  if  they  had  been  real. 

After  that  I  called  the  southeast  chamber,  "  Ruth's 
room."  I  had  always  secretly  hoped  that  Ruth  would 
live  with  me  if  ever  I  had  a  house  of  my  own.  I  had 
hoped  it  ever  since  Alec  had  married  Edith.  It 
hadn't  come  to  pass  —  it  never  would.  Ruth  is  so 
fastidious.  But  she  has  spent  a  night  with  me  very 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      291 

often  so  I  decided  to  make  over  the  room  that  no  lit 
tle  child  seemed  to  want  to  occupy,  for  my  only  sis 
ter.  It  really  was  easier  to  refer  to  the  room  as 
Ruth's.  I  was  glad,  after  the  first  shock,  that  Will 
had  made  the  change.  The  evident  question  and  pity 
in  people's  eyes  when  we  had  called  it  by  its  old  name 
had  become  unpleasant  for  both  Will  and  me. 

I  grew  very  philosophical  about  my  disappointment 
as  time  went  on.  I  didn't  mean  to  allow  it  to  shadow 
my  whole  life.  There  was  lots  else  to  be  thankful 
for.  But  that  night  after  our  little  tea-party  my  phi 
losophy  seemed  to  leave  me.  It  always  does  when 
I'm  a  little  tired  and  need  it  most.  I  couldn't  keep 
up  any  kind  of  conversation  at  dinner  that  night.  I 
tried,  but  I  couldn't.  My  thoughts  got  to  travelling 
the  wellworn  path  that  they  will  stray  away  to  every 
once  in  a  while  in  spite  of  me,  and  it's  always  Will 
who  comes  to  my  rescue  and  pulls  them  back  on  to 
safe  sure  ground,  before  they  lose  themselves  in  utter 
dejection. 

"  Let's  play  some  cribbage !  "  he  suggested  lightly 
after  dinner. 

I  laid  down  my  useless  embroidery  and  listlessly 
drew  up  to  the  table.  We  played  three  games  with 
out  an  interruption.  I  \von  them  all.  Then  just  as 
Will  was  dealing  for  a  fourth  game  I  had  to  get  out 
my  handkerchief  and  wipe  my  eyes. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  girl ! "  said  Will  accusingly. 

"I  know  it,  but  I  can't  help  it!"  I  replied.  "It 
seems  too  cruel!  I  simply  can't  bear  not  to  use  the 
room  we  built  the  house  around.  I  wish  we  could 
find  a  little  child  somewhere  that  we  could  —  borrow. 
You  see,  Will,  a  woman,  to  be  really  happy,  seems  to 


require  a  family  to  take  care  of,  unless  she's  a  genius 
• —  an  artist  or  a  poet,  or  something  like  that,  which 
I'm  not.  Why,  Will,"  I  broke  out,  "  I'm  getting  so 
I  don't  like  to  hear  about  other  people's  children  —  or 
see  them  or  want  them  around.  When  Alice  spoke 
about  bringing  her  baby  into  my  garden  it  seemed  as 
if  I'd  simply  have  to  find  somewhere  a  little  creature 
of  our  own  to  play  with  the  flowers  I've  planted. 
Don't  I  know  it's  a  perfect  place  for  children?  Don't 
I  know  it?  And  does  she  think  we  also  wouldn't  be 
prouder  of  a  little  child  than  of  your  discoveries? 
Oh,  Will,  I  know  how  disappointed  you  are.  You 
won't  say  it  but  I  know  it's  awfully  hard  for  you  too." 

"  Nonsense,"  Will  scoffed.  "  What's  hard  about 
it?  I've  got  you,  haven't  I?  You  and  I  are  the  two 
best  children  at  playing  games  in  a  garden  that  7 
ever  saw.  I'm  perfectly  satisfied.  Come  ahead,  cut 
the  cards.  I'm  about  to  beat  you  now  at  five  games 
of  crib." 

I  shook  my  head  and  looked  away. 

"  You're  mistaken,"  Will  went  on,  "  if  you  think 
I'm  envying  anybody  anything.  I've  yet  to  meet  two 
people  happier  than  we.  Children  are  pleasant 
enough  incidents  in  life,"  Will  went  on,  "  but  don't 
you  draw  any  wrong  conclusions  that  happiness  is 
dependent  on  them.  It  isn't.  Look  at  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Graham.  They  never  had  any,  and  two  more  con 
genial,  more  contented,  happier  people  never  existed 
—  except  perhaps  ourselves.  Dr.  Graham  has  too 
much  sound  thought  to  allow  the  denial  of  any  one 
of  the  supposed  blessings  of  life  to  disturb  his  peace. 
And  so  have  we,  Bobbie,  don't  you  think?  Some  of 
the  very  best  people  in  the  world,  some  of  those  who 


293 

have  accomplished  the  most  effective  work,  never  had 
children.  It  isn't  the  first  question  we  ask  about  a 
great  man  or  a  good  woman.  I  might  have  reason  to 
complain  if  I  didn't  have  my  health  or  a  good  sound 
mind,  or  if  after  these  few  precious  years  together, 
I  lost  you.  But  as  it  is  —  well,  please  don't  ever  say 
again,  young  lady,  that  our  present  conditions  are 
hard  for  me.  Hard  —  Nonsense !  " 

Dear  Will!  I'd  heard  this  same  little  speech  of 
his  dozens  of  times  before.  When  he  tries  so  hard 
to  cheer  me  it  seems  too  bad  not  to  respond;  so  I 
smiled  now. 

"  Will  Maynard,"  I  said,  "  you  don't  deceive  me 
for  one  minute  by  all  this  talk!  Don't  think  you  do! 
/  know  —  /  understand.  But  I'll  say  this  —  and  I've 
said  it  a  hundred  times  before  —  you  certainly  are 
the  kindest  man  I  ever  knew." 

"Bosh!"  he  laughed. 

''Yes,  you  are  —  yes,  you  are.  And  I  guess  if 
I've  got  you  I'd  better  not  complain."  I  put  away  my 
handkerchief.  "  It's  all  over  now,"  I  announced, 
"  and  I'm  ready  to  beat  you  at  those  five  games  of 
crib." 

He  dealt  the  cards  and  for  five  minutes  we  played 
in  earnest;  then  suddenly  Will  reached  across  and 
took  my  hand. 

"  Who  says  you  and  I  aren't  perfectly  happy?  "  he 
asked. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

T  wasn't  a  week  after  that  Sunday  afternoon  of 
ours  on  our  darling  hilltop  that  I  received  a  let 
ter  from  Ruth  announcing  her  intention  of  paying  me 
a  visit.  I  was  amazed. 

Ruth  usually  prefers  to  visit  at  houses  where  she 
can  stay  in  bed  until  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
sink  luxuriously  into  an  upholstered  limousine  fitted 
up  with  plum-coloured  cushions  and  a  bunch  of  fresh 
flowers,  every  time  she  goes  out  of  doors.  She  isn't 
the  type  who  likes  making  her  own  bed  and  helping 
with  the  dishes  —  not  that  I  require  such  toll  from  a 
guest;  but  you  know  our  house  has  only  one  bath 
room  and  Ruth  says  a  tin  tub  always  looks  greasy. 
She  says  that  black  walnut  furniture  has  a  depressing 
effect  on  her,  and  assures  me  that  she  doesn't  dare 
turn  over  in  my  guest-room  bed  for  fear  the  head  of 
the  thing  —  a  big  towering  mass  of  black  walnut 
blocks  and  turrets  —  will  fall  down  on  top  of  her  in 
the  night.  Ruth  suffered  the  hardships  of  my  estab 
lishment  only  when  it  was  necessary.  Whenever  a 
taxicab  did  draw  up  to  my  door  and  deposit  my  dressy 
sister  for  the  night,  I  knew  that  it  was  because  she 
had  an  early  appointment  with  her  tailor  the  next 
morning,  or  had  missed  the  last  Hilton  Express.  I 
didn't  remember  that  Ruth  had  ever  spent  a  single 
night  under  my  roof  for  the  mere  friendliness  or  sis 
terly  love  of  sleeping  between  my  embroidered  sheets. 
Ruth  has  a  very  sensitive  temperament  —  so  sensi- 

294 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      295 

tive  that  certain  combinations  of  colour  will  affect  her 
spirits.  My  guest-room  has  mustard-coloured  walls 
with  reddish  fleur-de-lis. 

Ruth  is  an  extraordinary  girl.  She  doesn't  seem  a 
bit  like  a  Vars.  We're  such  a  conventional  and  just- 
what-you-would-expect  kind  of  family.  Ruth  con 
trives  somehow  to  shroud  herself  in  a  veil  of  mystery 
and  create  an  impression  everywhere  she  goes.  I 
guess  she's  the  most  discussed  girl  in  all  Hilton.  She 
affects  heliotrope  shades  in  her  clothes,  combining  sev 
eral  tones  in  one  gown,  and  wears  large,  round,  floppy 
hats.  She  always  manages  to  select  big  stagy  chairs 
to  sit  in,  that  set  her  off  as  if  she  were  a  portrait.  I 
have  to  pinch  myself  every  once  in  a  while  to  make 
sure  she  isn't  a  foreign  adventuress  of  some  kind  with 
an  exciting  past,  instead  of  just  my  common  ordinary 
little  sister  Ruthie.  She  has  the  queerest  ideas  on 
life  and  love  that  I  ever  heard  talked  outside  of  a 
book,  and  she  preaches  them  too.  I  don't  know  how 
she  dares ;  but  somehow  a  little  wickedness,  a  little 
cynicism,  from  so  very  pretty  a  girl  seems  simply  to 
add  to  her  piquancy  and  charm.  Ruth  dabbles  in 
every  artistic  line  that  exists  —  sings  with  the  finish 
of  a  prima-donna  and  loves  to  improvise  by  the  hour 
on  the  big  drawing-room  piano  at  home,  while  some 
love-lorn  suitor  sits  in  silence  in  the  half -dark  and 
worships.  She's  clever  at  drawing  —  has  designed 
book-plates  for  all  her  friends,  besides  having  mod 
elled  in  bas-relief  several  of  their  portraits  in  clay. 
She  writes  poetry  too.  She  never  read  any  of  it  to 
me;  I  suppose  I'm  not  sympathetic  enough  for  it; 
but  I  got  hold  of  some  of  her  papers  once  and  spent 
a  whole  hour  with  them.  I  never  knew  till  then  what 


296      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

deep  ideas  Ruth  really  has!  I  copied  several  of  trie 
verses  and  Bob  Jennings,  who  is  an  instructor  in  Eng 
lish  at  the  university  down  here,  said  they  were  "  full 
of  promise." 

When  Ruth's  letter  arrived  announcing  her  pro 
posed  visit,  my  only  sorrow  lay  in  the  fact  that  her 
room  in  the  new  house  wasn't  ready.  I  was  going 
to  have  it  papered  in  lavender  chambray  and  had  al 
ready  selected  a  wisteria  design  in  cretonne  for  the 
hangings.  It  was  going  to  be  the  most  artistic  room 
in  the  house.  I  wasn't  going  to  hang  a  single  picture 
on  the  walls  (no  pictures  is  Ruth's  latest  fad)  and 
the  furniture  was  going  to  be  plain  colonial  mahogany. 
It's  queer  how  all  the  family  pay  homage  to  Ruth, 
She's  younger  than  I,  by  three  years,  but  I've  always 
longed  for  her  approval.  I  used  to  criticise  her  ex 
travagance,  and  tell  her  she  was  vain  and  selfish,  but 
down  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I've  always  thought 
Ruth  was  wonderful.  Will  makes  fun  of  me  for 
laying  out  my  best  linen  every  time  Ruth  comes  to 
see  us.  It  is  foolish,  but  I  don't  want  Ruth  to  think 
that  I  don't  possess  any  of  the  fine  points  of  the  peo 
ple  she  most  admires.  I  began  to  plan  to  make  her 
first  real  visit  with  me  as  much  of  a  success  as  I 
knew  how.  Ruth  likes  to  have  parties  planned  ahead 
for  her,  so  I  decided  to  invite  the  Van  Breezes  to  din 
ner  one  night,  and  Bob  Jennings  another. 

Bob  is  a  perfectly  splendid  young  man  and  awfully 
good-looking.  I  was  sorry  that  Ruth  had  to  meet 
him  for  the  first  time  in  the  unkind  surroundings  of 
our  house.  Setting,  background,  atmosphere,  in 
fluence  her  so  much.  If  she  sees  a  man  for 
the  first  time  in  company  with  black  walnut  and  mar- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      297 

ble-topped  tables,  she  is  apt  to  think  him  as  offensively 
old-fashioned  as  the  furniture.  And  I  did  want  to 
prove  to  Ruth  that  there  existed  a  decent  man  with 
several  degrees  to  his  name,  who  knew  how  to  dress 
properly  for  dinner  and  converse  intelligently  on  the 
latest  opera. 

Will  and  I  both  met  Ruth  at  the  station  when  she 
arrived.  She  kissed  me  and  gave  both  her  hands  to 
Will  in  her  most  engaging  manner.  She  presented 
him  later  with  three  trunk  checks.  I  was  flattered. 
I  was  glad  that  there  happened  to  be  several  teas  on 
hand,  and  a  musicale  at  the  Omsted's  that  week.  I 
would  show  Ruth  that  all  our  friends  didn't  live  in 
ugly  brown  French-roofed  houses,  and  that  she  hadn't 
brought  all  her  pretty  gowns  to  my  house  in  vain. 

But  here  I  was  disappointed.  After  dinner  Ruth 
announced,  "  Oh,  no ;  I  couldn't.  Don't  make  any  en 
gagements  for  me,  please.  My  time  won't  be  my  own 
while  I'm  here.  I  didn't  mention  in  my  letter  that 
Breck  Sewall  is  coming  up  from  New  York  to-mor 
row.  He  has  invited  me  to  several  things  in  town. 
I  thought  it  would  be  simpler  for  me  to  spend  my 
nights  here,  than  to  go  back  so  many  times  to  Hil 
ton." 

I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  my  heart  skipped  a  beat, 
I  think.  I  had  thought  the  affair  with  Breck  Sewall 
had  blown  over.  The  Sewalls  haven't  occupied  their 
summer  place  near  Hilton  for  three  years.  It  hadn't 
occurred  to  me  that  Ruth's  visit  could  have  any  pos 
sible  connection  with  Breck  Sewall.  Ruth  knew  that 
Will  and  I  disapprove  of  him;  she  knew  the  sound  of 
his  very  name  was  unwelcome  in  our  house.  I  felt 
like  telling  Ruth  to  go  upstairs,  lock  up  her  precious 


298      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

trunks,  and  go  home.  Once  I  would  have  spat  out 
something  nasty  to  my  sister  about  accepting  atten 
tions  from  a  man  she  knew  was  not  nice,  but  now  I 
was  too  anxious  to  become  her  friend  to  quarrel  with 
her  on  the  first  night  she  arrived.  I  had  learned  that 
the  safest  course  for  me  to  follow  was  simply  not  to 
oppose  Ruth  in  anything. 

It  was  Will,  turning  from  fastening  the  windows, 
who  blurted  out  bluntly,  "  Are  you  still  keeping  up 
your  connections  with  that  man?" 

Ruth  smiled,  raising  her  eyebrows  a  little,  and  then 
folded  her  hands  behind  her  head,  her  pretty  arms 
bare  to  the  elbows. 

"Don't  you  approve  of  him,  brother  William?" 
she  inquired  archly  as  if  she  didn't  care  a  straw; 
whether  he  did  or  not. 

"Do  you?"  asked  Will. 

Ruth  laughed  an  amused,  silvery  laugh  and  re 
plied  lightly,  "  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  Breck 
Sewall,  I  suppose,  if  that  answers  you." 

Will  didn't  say  a  word  for  a  minute.  Then,  "  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"  Really?"  smiled  Ruth.  "  Breck  and  I  shall  cer 
tainly  miss  your  blessing,  William."  She  always 
calls  him  William  when  she's  making  fun  of  him.  I 
don't  see  how  she  dares  to  mock  a  man  so  much  wiser 
and  older  than  she,  but  Ruth  would  deride  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States  if  he  interfered  with  her 
little  schemes. 

Will  replied ;  "  You're  too  fine  a  girl  to  make  such 
a  mistake,  Ruth." 

She  rippled  into  another  laugh  and  my  cheeks  grew 
warm  with  indignation.  She  leaned  forward  and  se- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      299 

lected  a  chocolate-cream  from  a  box  of  candy  on  the 
table. 

"  That's  a  very  prettily  veiled  compliment,  William, 
and  I  thank  you,"  she  said.  She  nibbled  a  bit  of  her 
candy  as  she  spoke. 

She  was  awfully  exasperating,  sitting  there  so  gay 
and  unconcerned.  Will  stepped  up  to  her  chair  and 
I  could  tell  from  his  voice  that  he  was  angry. 

"  I  know  all  about  Breck  Sewall,"  he  said.  "  He's 
not  the  kind  of  man  for  any  nice  girl  to  associate 
with.  He  spent  a  year  at  this  university.  He  was 
expelled,  not  only  because  he  could  not  keep  up  in  his 
courses,  not  only  because  he  was  brought  home  time 
and  time  again  too  disgustingly  drunk  to  stand  alone, 
not  only  because  of  these  things,  but  because  of  an 
other  and  more  disreputable  affair.  I  think  you 
ought  to  know  about  it  before  this  goes  any  further. 
It  was  an  affair  with  a  girl.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  it.  He  acknowledged  the  whole  thing.  Why, 
Ruth,  he  isn't  the  kind  of  man  for  you  even  to  speak 
to !  "  Will  said.  "  Sometime  I  will  tell  you  the  whole 
story  —  sometime  —  if  it's  necessary." 

Ruth  took  another  bite  of  her  chocolate-cream. 

"  Do  now,"  she  smiled,  "if  it  amuses  you.  But 
it  will  be  no  news  to  me.  I  know  all  about  that  col 
lege  affair  of  Breck's.  He  has  told  me  the  whole 
story  himself.  I  know  the  girl's  name  and  all  the 
particulars.  Breck  isn't  afraid  to  tell  me  the  truth. 
Nothing  in  the  world  shocks  me,  you  know,"  she  an 
nounced  with  bravado.  "  Did  you  think  I  was  so 
narrow-minded  and  hemmed  in  by  prejudice  not  to 
overlook  the  follies  a  man  may  have  committed  when 
he  was  hardly  more  than  a  boy?  I  don't  care  what 


300      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Breck  did  before  he  knew  me.  What  other  awful 
news  have  you  to  break  to  me,  William?"  Ruth  in 
quired  sweetly. 

Will  stared  at  Ruth  as  if  she  were  something  he 
never  knew  existed. 

"  Nothing  else,"  he  said  shortly,  "  if  that  isn't  suf 
ficient." 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  silence.  My  sister 
must  have  felt  a  little  uneasy  under  the  gaze  of  Will's 
astonished  eyes ;  for  when  she  had  finished  her  candy, 
daintily  touched  her  lips  with  her  bit  of  a  white  hand 
kerchief,  tucked  it  away,  and  spoke  again,  her  manner 
towards  him  had  changed. 

"  Will,"  she  said,  "  I'm  so  different  from  any  one 
you  ever  knew  that  you  can't  understand  me,  can 
you?  Now  I  know  you  told  me  just  now  about  that 
little  unfortunate  affair  of  Breck's  because  you  want 
me  to  be  happy.  And  I  do  appreciate  your  interest 
in  me  —  I  do  really.  Of  course  I  have  no  mother," 
she  put  in  quite  tragically ;  "  I  never  had.  Perhaps 
that  is  why  I  am  so  different  from  other  girls.  I'm 
not  shocked  at  the  things  young  girls  are  brought  up 
to  be  shocked  at.  I  don't  tremble  at  the  sound  of 
unadulterated  truth  and  bare  facts.  I  am  aware  of 
it.  I  am  not  living  under  the  false  illusion  that  the 
man  I  am  to  marry  is  perfect.  I  know  he  isn't,  and 
I  am  content.  Why,  the  very  qualities  I  require  in  a 
man  preclude  at  least  a  few  of  the  supposed  virtues. 
Perhaps,  Will,"  said  Ruth  patronisingly,  "  you  do  not 
understand  a  man  of  Breck's  tempestuous  nature. 
You're  so  scientific.  It's  easy  for  you  to  stay  within 
the  narrow  path.  But  you  shouldn't  be  severe  on 
others." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      301 

"  Do  you  love  Breck  Sewall  ?  "  asked  Will  point- 
blank. 

"  Oh,  love! "  Ruth  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  Love  would  be  the  last  thing  I  would  marry  a  man 
for.  I'm  not  as  short-sighted  as  that.  Love  may 
last  a  year,  or  two  perhaps,  but  it  is  not  enduring. 
I  marry  for  sounder  reasons  than  love.  You  must 
know  that  the  Sewalls  are  immensely  wealthy. 
Their  position  is  as  established  as  royalty  in  England. 
Oh,  you  see,"  laughed  Ruth,  standing  up  and  walking 
over  toward  the  bookcase,  "  how  dreadfully  worldly 
and  wicked  I  am!  Have  you  La  Rochefoucauld? 
Let  me  read  you  a  little  saying  of  his." 

"No,  not  dreadfully  worldly  —  not  dreadfully 
wicked,  Ruth,"  said  Will;  "only  dreadfully  young,  I 
think." 

Ruth  hates  to  be  accused  of  youth. 

"  But  old  enough  to  marry  whom  I  please,  William, 
perhaps,"  she  flashed. 

"  Oh,"  scoffed  Will,  "  that  doesn't  require  much 
age,  nor  much  wisdom.  You  are  young  enough  to 
think  it  rather  clever  and  smart  to  scorn  virtue,  make 
fun  of  love,  and  pretend  to  marry  a  man  for  his 
wealth  and  position.  It  sounds  so  bookish  and  so 
sophisticated !  " 

Ruth  would  not  have  deigned  to  respond  to  such 
an  insulting  assault  as  that  if  I  had  made  it,  but  to 
Will  she  replied,  "  You're  mistaken  there.  I've 
thought  and  read  on  this  subject.  I'm  not  so  young 
as  you  think."  She  walked  over  to  the  mantel  and 
leaned  her  back  against  the  white  marble,  then  fold 
ing  her  arms  across  her  chest,  like  a  judging  goddess, 
she  continued:  "  I  believe,  and  several  people  of  repu- 


302      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

tation  agree  with  me,  that  the  most  important  thing 
to  consult  in  considering  marriage  is  one's  tempera 
ment.  Ask  yourself  what  your  tastes  are  and  then 
see  if  the  new  life  will  gratify  them.  Temperament 
never  changes.  If  you  love  music  when  you  are 
twenty,  you  will  love  it  wrhen  you  are  forty.  Well, 
I  have  studied  my  nature  very  closely.  I  know  what 
pleases  it.  I  know  what  annoys  and  disturbs  it. 
I'm  different  from  the  others  in  our  family.  I  often 
wonder  from  whom  I  inherit  my  peculiarities.  I  love 
beautiful  music,  beautiful  pictures,  soft  rugs,  fine  fur 
niture,  delicate  lace  at  the  windows.  Low,  artistic 
lamp-light,  the  comings  and  goings  of  soft-footed  un 
obtrusive  servants,  a  dinner  perfectly  served,  ex 
quisite  china,  old  silver,  exclusive  people  —  all  such 
things  give  me  actual  physical  pleasure.  I  enjoy  po 
sition  and  influence.  My  nature  grows  and  expands 
under  recognition.  It  dries  up  and  dies  under  slight 
and  disregard.  The  people  I  envy  most  in  the  world, 
are  those  who  are  born  in  high  positions.  I  can't 
alter  my  birth,  but  I  have  been  invited  to  become  a 
member  of  a  prominent  and  influential  family,  and 
as  one  of  that  family  I  shall  be  invited  and  received 
everywhere,  without  any  of  the  humiliating  striving. 
I'm  proud,  you  know.  I  despise  toadying.  I  don't, 
want  to  work  for  social  position.  I  want  it  placed 
upon  me,  like  a  king  his  crown.  Why,  Will,  Breck 
Sewall  can  supply  my  nature  with  everything  it  de 
mands.  Why  shouldn't  I  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Can  Breck  supply  your  intellect  with  what  it  de 
mands?"  asked  Will. 

Ruth  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Poor    Breck !     Poor    old    maligned    Breck !     He 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      303 

isn't  exactly  intellectual,  I  agree,  but  don't  you  worry, 
Will,  I  shall  find  congenial  minds  enough  in  his  circle. 
The  Sewalls  entertain  all  sorts  of  interesting  profes 
sional  people  —  the  top-notchers,  I  mean.  My  intel 
lect  won't  suffer.  Where  is  the  woman,  anyhow,  who 
discusses  her  soul  with  her  husband?  How  can  a 
woman  read  poetry  with  a  man  who  has  just  been 
grumbling  at  the  price  of  her  prettiest  gown?  "  Ruth 
shuddered.  "No,  no!  Please!  I  prefer  not.  But 
I  shan't  be  lonely.  Never  fear."  She  gave  Will  a 
meaning  look  from  beneath  her  eyebrows  and  added 
in  a  sort  of  bold,  daring  way,  "  There  will  be  some 
one." 

I  don't  know  why  Ruth  loves  to  preach  such  wick 
edness.  She  doesn't  mean  half  she  says.  I  waited 
for  the  walls  to  fall.  Will  abhors  married  women 
who  attempt  to  flirt  with  other  men.  Ruth  waited 
too  for  the  clap  of  thunder  she  thought  must  follow 
her  startling  implication.  But  when  Will  spoke  there 
wasn't  a  trace  of  anger  in  his  voice  —  just  disgust  — 
just  plain  unflattering  disgust.  "  Come,  Lucy,"  he 
said  to  me;  "I've  had  about  enough  of  this.  Let's 
go  upstairs  to  bed." 

The  Sewalls  are  the  high-muck-a-mucks  of  the  Hil 
ton  summer  colony.  They're  New  York  people  and 
their  place,  just  outside  Hilton,  reminds  me  of  the 
castles  that  give  distinction  to  so  many  otherwise  non 
descript  little  towns  in  Europe  —  not  in  age,  for  I 
can  remember  when  the  Sewalls'  place  was  rough  cow- 
pasture  land,  but  in  its  relation  to  the  town  and  the 
surrounding  country.  It's  Hilton's  show-place.  We 
always  point  it  out  to  strangers  when  we  take  them 
on  their  first  drive.  The  wrought-iron  gates  cost  five 


304      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

thousand  dollars;  the  distance  around  the  house  and 
adjoining  buildings  added  together  measures  half  a 
mile;  the  big  entrance  hall,  we  state  (and  we're  proud 
of  our  knowledge  too)  is  hung  with  old  tapestries  and 
furnished  in  carved  English  oak. 

After  Mrs.  F.  Rockridge  Sewall's  advent,  there 
was  established  among  the  Hilton  summer  colonists 
a  new  law  of  society.  You  were  either  of  the  elect 
or  of  the  rejected;  you  were  either  entertained  by 
Mrs.  F.  Rockridge  Sewall  or  you  were  an  ignomin 
ious  nobody.  There  existed  no  self-respecting  mid 
dle  position  in  Hilton  after  Mrs.  Sewall  arrived  in 
mid-July  with  her  retinue  of  some  twenty-odd  serv 
ants,  her  four  or  five  automobiles,  and  half-dozen 
hunters.  Mrs.  Sewall  was  for  some  time  a  very  dis 
turbing  factor  in  Edith's  life.  The  lights  of  a  ball 
room,  the  sound  of  dance-music,  however  lovely  they 
may  be,  are  absolutely  irritating  to  my  sister-in-law, 
if  seen  and  heard  from  the  outside.  It  took  two  long 
discouraging  seasons  of  scheming,  manipulating,  and 
rather  bold  attacking,  before  Edith  gained  the  proper 
kind  of  entrance  to  the  hallowed  ground  inside  those 
five-thousand-dollar  wrought-iron  gates.  It  was 
really  due  to  Ruth  that  she  was  admitted  then. 
Young  Breckenridge  Sewall  had  chanced  to  see  a 
stunning  young  creature  in  lavender  and  grey  at  a 
garden-party  at  Mrs.  Leonard  Jackson's,  one  after 
noon  late  in  August,  during  his  mother's  second  sea 
son  at  Grassmere,  the  name  of  their  place  in  Hilton. 
He  had  only  to  see  Ruth  once  to  beg  for  an  introduc 
tion.  That  is  the  way  it  is  with  every  man  across 
whose  field  of  vision  my  sister  steps.  I  think  that 
Ruth  is  the  loveliest  production  that  Hilton,  or  Hil- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      305 

ton's  environs,  ever  produced;  and  Breckenridge 
Sewall  thought  so  too.  Three  weeks  after  that  in 
troduction  at  Mrs.  Leonard  Jackson's  Ruth  rushed 
in  upon  Edith  one  Friday  noon  and  announced,  "  I'm 
invited  to  a  house-party  at  the  Sewalls' !  One  of  the 
out-of-town  guests  has  disappointed  Mrs.  Sewall  at 
the  last  moment  and  Breck  wants  me  to  fill  in ! " 
Before  the  Sewalls  went  back  to  New  York  that  fall, 
Ruth  was  the  most  distinguished  young  lady  in  all 
Hilton.  She  was  pointed  out  everywhere  she  went 
as  the  girl  to  whom  Breck  Sewall  was  paying  such 
marked  attention;  she  burst  into  notoriety;  and 
Edith's  position  was  at  last  made  secure.  Trust 
Edith  to  squeeze  into  the  limelight  along  with  Ruth. 
I  don't  know  how  my  sister-in-law  manages  such 
things  but  it  was  clear  sailing  for  her  after  Breck's 
discovery. 

That  man  rushed  Ruth  for  two  years  and  a  half 
before  there  was  any  word  from  my  sister  about  an 
engagement.  During  the  summer  he  used  to  call  on 
Ruth  about  six  evenings  a  week,  and  as  Edith  made 
us  all  go  upstairs  (this  was  before  I  was  married)  on 
the  nights  that  Breck  came,  by  nine  o'clock,  it  got  to 
be  a  nuisance.  At  first  I  remember  we  were  all  a 
little  flattered  by  the  young  millionaire's  attention  to 
our  pretty  Ruth  and  even  I  used  to  feel  a  thrill  of 
pride  at  the  thought  of  such  a  brilliant  match  in  our 
quiet  midst. 

Breck  didn't  propose  to  Ruth  till  after  I  was  mar 
ried.  She  came  in  from  a  long  motor  run  one  Sun 
day  in  July,  when  Will  and  I  happened  to  be  in  Hil 
ton,  and  told  us  the  news  before  she  even  took  off  her 
hat.  I  remember  it  very  well  for  there  followed  one 


306      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

of  our  dreadful  family  discussions.  By  that  time 
Will  and  I,  and  Alec  too,  had  begun  to  feel  a  little 
doubt  as  to  Breck's  desirability.  We  had  always 
heard  rumours  about  his  habits,  but  Edith  prized 
Breck's  attentions  to  Ruth  so  highly,  that  Alec  had 
neglected  a  thorough  investigation.  He  thought  that 
Breck  didn't  intend  to  marry  Ruth  anyway,  called  it 
a  summer  affair  and  trusted  that  time  would  cure 
them  both  of  their  fancy.  So  when  Will  came  out 
with  a  few  telling  facts  detrimental  to  Breck  Sewall's 
character,  Edith  was  simply  furious.  She  told  me 
that  I  shouldn't  come  back  meddling  after  I  was  mar 
ried.  Ruth  loved  Breck  Sewall  —  she  was  sure  of 
it;  we  might  be  the  cause  of  wrecking  the  child's 
happiness  for  life  if  we  interfered.  Alec  looked  aw 
fully  distressed  as  we  talked  but  he  didn't  rise  up  in 
indignation,  stampede  as  he  should  have,  and  swear 
that  no  sister  of  his  should  ever  marry  a  man  with 
Breck  Sewall's  reputation,  so  long  as  he  lived.  Alec 
is  awfully  ineffectual  when  Edith  is  around. 

I  don't  know  how  it  all  would  have  come  out,  if 
Mrs.  Sewall  hadn't  interrupted  matters.  Suddenly, 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  thickest  of  our  discussion, 
three  or  four  days  after  Ruth's  announcement,  Mrs. 
Sewall  decided  to  go  abroad.  She  closed  up  her  sum 
mer  mansion,  mid-season  though  it  was,  barred  the 
windows,  locked  the  gates,  and  sailed  away  to  Europe, 
Breck  and  all.  She  didn't  come  back  for  two  years, 
and  even  then  she  didn't  come  back  to  Hilton.  The 
excitement  about  Breck  and  Ruth  died  down  like  fire, 
and  about  as  suddenly.  He  didn't  even  write  to 
Ruth  after  three  or  four  months,  and  just  before 
Rut'n  came  down  to  visit  me  and  announced  her 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      307 

startling  piece  of  news,  I  had  read  that  Breckenridge 
Sewall  was  reported  engaged  to  his  cousin,  Miss  Gale 
somebody  or  other,  a  debutante  of  last  season. 

Ruth's  news  was  an  awful  shock  to  me.  I  knew 
without  being  told  how  jubilant  Edith  would  be,  how 
helpless  Alec  in  the  face  of  what  seemed  to  both  the 
women  of  his  household  such  a  brilliant  victory.  I 
didn't  know  what  to  do.  It  didn't  seem  as  if  I  could 
stand  by  and  watch  my  own  sister  marry  the  kind  of 
man  Will  said  that  Breck  Sewall  was.  I  lay  awake 
a  long  while  that  night  after  Ruth's  arrival  at  our 
house,  wondering  what  under  heaven  I,  whose  ideas 
on  life  my  sister  considered  so  provincial  —  what 
there  was  that  /  might  do  to  swerve  her  from  her 
purpose. 

I  could  hope  for  no  help  from  Will.  Ruth  had 
thrown  him  utterly  out  of  sympathy  with  her.  He 
washed  his  hands  of  the  whole  affair;  he  told  me  so 
that  night  when  we  came  upstairs  to  bed,  and  I  knew 
by  his  manner  to  my  sister  the  next  morning  at  break 
fast,  courteous  enough  though  it  was,  in  what  con 
tempt  he  held  her.  I  told  Will  I  couldn't  send  Ruth 
back  to  Hilton,  and,  as  distasteful  as  I  knew  Breck 
Sewall's  coming  to  our  door  would  be  to  him,  I 
hoped  he  would  let  me  keep  Ruth  with  me  as  long  as 
she  would  stay.  I  didn't  have  any  plan,  any  deep- 
laid  scheme.  It  simply  seemed  to  me  that  it  must 
have  been  an  act  of  heaven  that  Ruth  had  been  sent 
to  me  during  such  a  critical  period  in  her  history,  and 
I  didn't  want  to  fly  in  the  face  of  Providence. 

I  began  by  being  just  as  nice  and  kind  to  her  as  I 
knew  how.  I  didn't  offer  one  word  of  opposition; 
I  didn't  advise;  I  didn't  criticise;  I  appeared  even  to 


3o8      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

welcome  her  suitor  when  he  first  arrived  to  carry  my 
sister  in  town  to  dinner  and  the  theatre;  I  chatted 
with  him  pleasantly  while  she  put  on  her  party  coat 
upstairs.  I  served  Ruth  breakfasts  in  bed  at  eleven 
A.  M.  ;  and  admired  and  praised  all  her  gowns  and 
lovely  fol-de-rols  as  she  dressed  every  afternoon  in 
preparation  for  her  lover. 

For  five  days  Ruth  blandly  carried  on  her  love- 
affair  in  our  house,  going  and  coming  at  her  own 
sweet  time,  accepting  our  hospitality  as  a  matter  of 
course,  while  she  bestowed  her  rarest  smiles  upon  a 
man  whom  she  knew  Will  considered  disreputable  and 
whom  therefore  I  could  not  approve  of.  For  five 
days  she  lunched,  motored,  and  dined  with  Breck 
Sewall,  and  in  between  times  talked  with  him  over 
the  'phone  for  twenty-minute  periods.  I  despaired. 
I  didn't  see  any  way  out,  and  as  the  days  went  on  and 
the  house  became  more  and  more  perfumed  by  Breck 
Sewall's  roses  and  violets  and  valley-lilies,  I  began  to 
give  up  hope. 

On  the  sixth  day  I  received  a  letter  from  Edith: 

"  Ruth  would  go  down  to  you.  I  told  her  that  neither 
you  nor  Will  liked  Breck  Sewall  and  it  wouldn't  be  a  bit 
pleasant.  Alec  and  I  are  both  very  much  pleased  about 
the  engagement,  because  Ruth  really  loves  Breck  Sewall 
with  all  her  heart,  and  since  his  renewed  attentions,  the 
dear  girl  has  been  simply  radiant.  I  write  this  because 
I'm  afraid  that  you'll  try  to  poison  Ruth's  mind  against 
the  man  she  loves.  We  all  want  her  to  be  happy,  I'm 
sure,  and  I  think  you  would  assume  a  lot  of  responsibility 
in  trying  to  stop  a  girl  from  marrying  the  only  man  she 
ever  has  cared  for  or  ever  will.  She  likes  to  boast  that 
she  doesn't  love  Breck.  It's  pose.  I,  who  have  been 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      309 

with  Ruth  so  intimately  for  so  long,  know  she  is  wild 
about  Breck  Sewall,  and  loves  him  madly.  Don't  med 
dle  with  it,  Bobbie.  I'd  hate  to  be  to  blame  for  my 
sister's  broken  heart." 


That  letter  of  Edith's  set  me  to  thinking.  It 
hadn't  occurred  to  me  that  Ruth  was  simply  pretend 
ing  to  marry  for  position.  I  didn't  think  that  such  a 
repulsive  creature  as  Breck  Sewall  could  inspire  any 
thing  so  divine  as  love  in  my  sister's  heart.  And 
yet,  perhaps  —  how  did  I  know  (I  understand  Ruth 
so  little  anyway)  — how  did  I  know  —  perhaps  Edith 
was  right.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Ruth  was  simply  try 
ing  to  conceal  her  love  by  contempt  and  scorn  of  it. 
It  wouldn't  have  made  any  difference  as  to  my  oppo 
sition,  but  it  would  have  cleared  Ruth  of  unworthy 
motives,  at  any  rate.  I  was  determined  to  find  out. 

She  had  told  me  when  she  left  the  house  at  three 
that  afternoon  that  she  and  Breck  were  going  to  mo 
tor  to  somebody's  place  on  the  north  shore  and  would 
not  be  back  until  late  in  the  evening.  It  was  eleven- 
thirty  when  I  finally  heard  Breck  Sewall  fumbling 
with  the  lock  and  a  minute  later  I  caught  the  odour 
of  his  cigarette,  as  I  lay  waiting  for  it  in  bed.  I 
knew  then  that  he  and  Ruth  were  established  in  the 
living-room  for  their  usual  half-hour  alone  before  he 
bade  her  good-night.  I  don't  suppose  it  was  a  very 
honourable  thing  to  do,  but  after  about  five  minutes 
I  got  up,  put  on  a  wrapper,  and  crawled  quietly  down 
to  the  landing,  stepping  over  the  third  step  which 
creaks  awfully.  It  was  pitch  dark  in  the  corner  near 
the  wall ;  there  was  no  danger  of  being  seen  from  be 
low;  and  I  stood  perfectly  still,  eavesdropping  for  all 


310      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  was  worth.  Ruth  had  lit  one  dim  burner  by  the 
piano  and  from  my  balcony  I  could  plainly  see  Breck 
Sewall,  low  as  the  light  was,  ensconced  in  a  corner  of 
our  davenport-sofa. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HE  was  making  himself  entirely  at  home.  He 
had  crossed  his  feet  and  had  placed  them 
square  in  the  middle  of  the  mahogany  seat  of  my 
nice  little  Windsor  chair,  which  he  had  drawn  up  in 
front  of  him.  His  toes  pointed  to  the  ceiling;  his 
cigarette  pointed  there  too;  for  he  had  comfortably 
pillowed  his  greasy  old  head  (Breck's  hair  is  jet 
black  and  always  looks  as  if  it  was  wet)  on  the  top 
of  the  low  back  of  the  sofa.  The  smoke  that  he  blew 
at  times  from  his  nose  went  straight  up  like  smoke 
from  a  chimney  on  a  windless  day.  I  didn't  think  it 
was  a  very  pretty  attitude  for  a  man  to  assume  in  the 
presence  of  a  young  lady.  His  hands  were  stuffed  in 
his  trousers  pockets,  and  when  he  spoke  the  only  trou 
ble  he  went  to  was  to  roll  his  head  in  Ruth's  direction. 
He's  anything  but  good-looking.  He  has  half-closed 
eyes  like  a  Chinaman's,  and  a  yellow,  unpleasant  com 
plexion. 

"  Come  on  over  here,"  I  heard  him  say  in  that  kind 
of  guttural  voice  a  man  uses  when  he  tries  to  talk 
with  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth,  and  I  saw  him  shift 
up  one  shoulder  to  motion  Ruth  to  sit  down  beside 
him. 

I  couldn't  see  my  sister  but  I  heard  her  reply.  "  I 
don't  feel  like  it  to-night,  Breck,"  she  said. 

Breck  smoked  in  silence  for  half  a  minute,  then  he 
asked,  removing  his  cigarette,  "  Say,  what's  the  mat 
ter  with  you  to-night?  Are  you  back  again  on  that 

3" 


312      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

old  subject  which  your  precious  saint  of  a  professor 
here  raised  up  out  of  the  past?  Haven't  I  explained 
that  to  you  a  dozen  times  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  refer  to  members  of  my  fam 
ily  in  such  a  way,"  replied  Ruth.  "  It  isn't  respectful 
tc  me.  You're  not  marrying  beneath  you,  as  your 
manner  sometimes  seems  to  imply.  My  brother-in- 
law  whom  you  choose  to  call  a  saint  is  a  noted  man, 
if  you  only  read  enough  to  know  it,  Breck.  Oh,  no, 
I'm  not  thinking  about  that  college  affair  of  yours. 
I'm  not  a  jealous  kind  of  girl.  You  know  that." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  then  ?  It  gets  me  what  I've  done 
to  deserve  such  treatment.  Weren't  they  the  right 
kind  of  flowers?  " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  Breck.  As  if  ornaments  or 
flowers  were  what  I  required !  I'll  tell  you  what's  the 
matter,  if  you  want  to  know,"  said  Ruth.  "  It's  sim 
ply  this :  I  don't  think  you're  treating  your  engage 
ment  with  proper  respect.  It  seems  out-of-order  to 
me  that  I  should  have  told  my  family  about  our  in 
tentions  before  you  have  told  yours.  It  isn't  a  bit 
as  it  should  be.  I  hate  even  to  speak  about  so  deli 
cate  a  thing  —  but,  Breck,  why  hasn't  your  mother 
written  to  me?  Why  hasn't  she  set  a  day  for  me  to 
come  and  see  her?  Here  my  family  are  all  recog 
nising  you  as  a  future  member  of  their  group,  while 
your  family  haven't  even  as  much  as  made  a  sign." 

"  Oh,  now,  now,"  replied  Breck  soothingly. 
"  That's  it,  is  it  ?  Don't  you  worry,  little  one.  The 
mater  will  come  around,  all  right.  Give  her  time. 
For  my  part,  though,  I'd  rather  step  into  the  Little 
Church  Around  the  Corner  and  get  it  over  with  in  a 
swoop." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      313 

If  Ruth  was  sitting  down,  I'll  wager  she  stood  up 
now.  Her  reply  came  like  lightning. 

"  Breck  Sewall,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that's  the  third 
time  in  a  week  that  you've  suggested  eloping  to  me! 
I  wish  you'd  stop  it.  It  is  absolutely  insulting !  " 

Breck  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Insulting  ?  "  he  repeated  dazed. 

"  Exactly.  Insulting,"  went  on  Ruth  in  hot  haste. 
"  I'm  not  a  servant-girl.  I  require  all  the  proprieties 
that  exist,  understand.  Why,"  she  added,  "  until 
your  mother  recognises  me  publicly  as  your  fiancee, 
I'll  never  marry  you  as  long  as  I  live!  "  She  stopped 
suddenly.  I  knew  she  was  very  angry,  for  Ruth. 

Breck  chuckled  in  a  horrid  insulting  sort  of  way, 
and  lay  down  his  cigarette. 

"  Say,"  he  broke  out,  putting  his  feet  down  on  the 
floor,  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees 
and  rubbing  his  two  hands  together,  "  say,  you're  sim 
ply  stunning  when  you're  mad."  He  was  looking  at 
Ruth  as  if  he'd  like  to  gobble  her  up.  "  You're  glo 
rious!  You're  great!  Most  of  'em  cry  and  make 
sights  of  themselves,  but  you  —  you — "  He  got  up. 
He  strode  over  to  Ruth.  I  suppose  she  was  simply 
too  stunning,  too  glorious,  too  great  to  resist.  I 
don't  know.  The  portiere  hid  her  and  I  was  glad  of 
it.  I  shouldn't  enjoy  seeing  Breck  Sewall  as  much 
as  lay  a  finger  on  my  sister.  I  closed  my  eyes  and 
waited.  I  should  have  been  afraid  of  a  man  like 
that,  myself,  but  I  suppose  Ruth  suffered  herself  to 
be  kissed  by  him  with  the  indifference  that  she  offers 
her  cheek  for  the  same  caress  to  a  girl.  When  she 
spoke  again  her  anger  seemed  to  have  spent  itself. 

"  You're  very  silly,  Breck,"  she  said. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  And  you  —  you're  as  cold  as  a  little  fish,"  he  re 
plied  as  tenderly  as  he  knew  how.  I  really  think  he 
loved  Ruth,  though  I  was  convinced  that  she  didn't 
have  an  emotion  of  any  kind  for  him.  "  But  I'll 
wake  you  up,  you  little  marble  statue,"  he  went  on. 
"  I'll  make  you  care  for  me.  Women  are  all  alike. 
See  if  I  don't." 

"  It's  more  important,"  I  heard  Ruth  reply,  "  to 
make  your  mother  care  for  me.  You  see,  Breck,  if 
we  hope  to  get  married  in  October  you  had  better  tell 
her  your  news  as  soon  as  possible.  Why  not  to-night 
when  you  go  back  to  the  hotel?  She  has  been  here 
now  three  days  with  you  and  if  she  wants  me  to  call 
I  can  go  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  before  I  go 
home.  You  say  she  came  on  so  as  to  make  arrange 
ments  to  open  Grassmere  this  year.  Certainly  the  en 
gagement  must  be  announced  immediately,  so  that  I 
shall  be  received  by  your  mother  properly  this  sum 
mer." 

"  You  seem  to  care  more  about  my  mother  than 
about  me,"  objected  Ruth's  lover. 

Ruth  laughed  prettily. 

"  Poor  abused  creature !  "  she  mocked.  "  Poor 
sulky  boy!  If  I  showed  my  feelings  for  you,  Breck, 
all  the  time,  you  wouldn't  care  for  me  half  so  much. 
I  understand  men.  You  call  me  a  little  fish  and  that's 
what  I  am  —  always  slipping  out  of  your  fingers,  al 
ways  evading  capture,  for  I  know  that  once  a  man 
gets  his  fish  and  puts  it  in  his  little  basket,  the  cat  can 
eat  it  then  for  all  he  cares." 

"  You're  a  clever  little  piece,"  said  Breck  admir 
ingly.  "  Half  the  time  I  don't  know  what  you're 
driving  at." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      315 

Just  here  I  saw  Ruth  walk  over  to  the  table  and 
pick  up  Breck's  gold  cigarette  box.  I  don't  remem 
ber  that  I  have  ever  been  so  shocked  in  my  life  as 
when,  staring  like  a  cat  out  of  my  dark  corner,  I 
saw  my  sister  —  my  own  little  sister  Ruth,  over 
whose  bed  hung  the  pure,  clean-cut  profile  of  my 
mother,  in  whose  heart  must  dwell  the  memory  of  the 
best,  the  noblest,  the  finest  father  a  girl  ever  had  — 
select  a  cigarette,  light  it,  and  actually  place  it  be 
tween  her  lovely  lips !  I  wanted  to  call  out,  "  Ruth 
Chenery  Vars,  what  are  you  doing?  Have  you  lost 
your  mind?  Are  you  crazy?"  I  saw  her  sit  down 
on  the  corner  of  the  sofa  that  Breck  had  left  empty 
and  lean  her  head  back  in  much  the  same  luxurious 
fashion.  I  saw  her  blow  a  fine  little  ribbon  of  smoke 
up  to  the  ceiling.  I  waited  until  I  saw  Breck  cross 
the  room  to  her  side,  and  then,  too  sick  to  endure  the 
awful  spectacle  another  instant,  I  turned  and  groped 
my  way  upstairs  to  bed.  • 

I  couldn't  sleep  for  hours  and  hours.  I  turned 
over  at  intervals  of  four  to  eight  minutes,  until  it 
began  to  grow  light.  I  may  have  dropped  off  into 
semi-consciousness.  I  don't  know.  Anyhow  my 
dreams  were  one  continuous  nightmare  of  my  waking 
vision.  Had  it  been  Ruth  whom  I  had  seen  with  my 
own  eyes  smoking  a  cigarette  in  my  living-room? 
Had  it  been  my  own  little  sister?  Had  she  done  it 
before?  Did  she  do  it  often?  If  I  had  been  anxious 
to  save  Ruth  from  Breck  before  my  horrible  discov 
ery,  now  I  was  determined.  She  shouldn't  share  such 
a  life  as  his.  She  shouldn't!  She  shouldn't!  I 
waited  impatiently  for  the  morning  light.  I  was 
eager  to  be  about  my  undertaking.  I  had  a  disagree- 


3i6      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

able  task  before  me,  and  haunted  by  the  dread  of  it, 
very  much  as  we  are  visited  by  the  fear  of  an  opera 
tion  that  must  be  undergone,  I  wanted  to  get  it  over 
with  and  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible. 

After  Will  had  left  for  the  university  and  I,  as 
usual,  had  carried  the  breakfast-tray  to  Ruth  (lying 
as  sweet  and  fresh  as  a  carnation  in  her  white  sheets 
—  you  would  never  have  dreamed  she  had  ever  tasted 
a  cigarette)  I  went  upstairs  to  my  room,  put  on  my 
best  eighty-five-dollar  Boston  tailor-made  suit,  and 
grimly  set  out  for  town. 

It  was  ten-thirty  when  I  sent  up  my  name  to  Mrs. 
F.  Rockridge  Sewall  at  the  Hotel  St.  Mary,  where  I 
knew  Breck  had  been  stopping  since  his  arrival  in 
town.  The  clerk  behind  the  yellow  onyx  counter 
that  enclosed  the  office  of  this  exclusive  hotel,  had  in 
formed  me  that  Mrs.  Sewall  had  just  breakfasted  and 
therefore  could  assure  me  that  she  was  in.  He  asked 
for  my  card  and  summoned  a  bell-boy.  I  withdrew 
to  the  rose-brocade  writing-room  at  the  left,  and  five 
minutes  later  into  the  envelope  in  which  I  placed  my 
card  I  slipped  a  note  that  read  something  like  this: 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Sewall, 

"  It  occurs  to  me  that  you  may  not  remember  who  I 

am  from  my  card,  or  if  so,  be  quite  at  a  loss  to  know 

Jwhat  prompts  this  call.     I  have  come  to  consult  with 

you  on  a  matter  that  concerns  your  son,  and  would  be 

greatly  obliged  if  you  will  see  me. 

"  LUCY  MAYNARD." 

I  must  confess  my  heart  acted  like  a  trip-hammer, 
as  I  waited  for  my  answer.  I  experienced  a  moment 
of  misgiving  and  apprehension,  as  I  gazed  at  the  pat- 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      317 

tern  of  the  rose  brocade  on  the  walls.  I  had  not  con 
fided  to  Will  my  intention  of  a  consultation  with  Mrs. 
Sewall,  and  just  for  a  moment  as  I  sat  there  on  the 
edge  of  a  formal  little  gilt-trimmed  chair,  I  wondered 
if  my  intuitions  were  leading  me  into  a  dreadful  so 
cial  blunder. 

"  She  will  see  you ;  suite  thirty-three.  The  boy 
will  show  you  up,"  suddenly  broke  in  on  my  reflec 
tions,  and  in  another  moment  I  was  silently  shooting 
up  the  elevator  shaft,  gazing  at  a  row  of  brass  but 
tons  on  the  bell-boy's  coat  and  estimating  their  num 
ber,  to  keep  myself  calm. 

The  room  into  which  I  was  conducted  was  empty 
when  I  entered  it  —  a  typical  hotel-suite  drawing- 
room,  furnished  with  elaborate  and  very  puffy  looking 
stuffed  furniture.  I  chose  the  only  straight  chair  in 
the  room,  and  sat  down  and  waited  again.  I  had 
met  Mrs.  Sewall  only  once  in  my  life,  quite  formally 
at  a  party  of  some  sort  at  Edith's.  We  may 
have  exchanged  a  half  dozen  words,  not  more.  I  had 
never  been  invited  to  her  grand  house,  and  most  of 
my  knowledge  of  the  lady  had  come  through  hear 
say,  and  the  social  columns  in  the  papers.  It  was 
necessary  to  keep  my  mind  pretty  closely  fastened  on 
the  cigarette  spectacle,  or  else  I  might  have  lost  cour 
age,  and  quietly  withdrawn  before  Mrs.  Sewall  ap 
peared.  She  kept  me  waiting  in  torture  for  at  least 
fifteen  minutes  (I  can  tell  you  the  subject  of  every 
one  of  the  engravings  on  the  wall,  I  am  sure)  but  the 
queer  thing  is,  that  when  she  finally  joined  me  and  I 
rose  to  speak,  I  forgot  to  be  afraid.  Will  says  that 
such  an  experience  is  very  common  with  him  in  mak 
ing  an  after-dinner  speech. 


3i8      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  You  don't  know  me,  Mrs.  Sewall,"  I  began. 

"  I  fear  I  do  not,"  she  replied,  smiling  formally. 
She  was  dressed  very  plainly,  but  elegantly  too.  Her 
iron-grey  hair  looked  as  if  it  were  cut  out  of  marble 
not  a  wisp  astray ;  and  you  simply  felt,  so  perfect  was 
everything  about  her,  that  the  nail  of  her  little  finger 
was  as  nicely  pointed,  polished,  and  pinked  as  all  the 
rest. 

"  But  your  card,"  she  went  on,  "  your  name  sounds 
familiar." 

Of  course  it  did  —  she  probably  had  seen  it  signed 
after  Will's  articles  in  the  magazines,  I  thought  — 
but  I  replied  simply,  "  You  met  me  before  I  was  Mrs. 
.William  Ford  Maynard  —  in  Hilton  —  several  years 
ago.  My  name  was  Lucy  Vars." 

I  was  quite  prepared  for  the  expression  of  hostility 
that  crossed  Mrs.  Sewall's  face  at  this  remark. 

"  Vars,"  she  repeated  a  little  vaguely.  "  Oh,  yes, 
I  remember.  There  was,  I  believe,  a  Ruth  Vars. 
Are  you  related?"  Then  as  if  she  had  forgotten  it 
up  to  this  time,  she  suddenly  asked,  "  Won't  you  sit 
down  ?  " 

I  thanked  her  and  did  so,  she  herself  sinking  into 
a  voluminous  tufted  armchair  opposite. 

"  I  am  Ruth  Vars'  sister,"  I  explained,  "  and  it  is 
about  Ruth  and  your  son  that  I  have  come  to  talk 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Sewall  raised  her  brows. 

"  Your  sister  ?  My  son  ?  Really  ?  How  extra 
ordinary  ! " 

"  Why,  yes.  You  must  know,"  I  went  on,  "  that 
your  son  is  seeing  a  great  deal  of  Ruth  lately." 

Mrs.  Sewall  smiled  in  a  very  patronising  mannef 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      319 

and  replied,  "  It  is  very  difficult  for  a  mother  to  keep 
track  of  all  a  young  man's  fancies." 

"  This  is  more  than  a  fancy,  Mrs.  Sewall.  Ruth 
and  your  son  are  engaged  to  be  married,"  I  announced 
calmly. 

A  slight  flush  spread  over  Mrs.  Sewall's  face  to  the 
very  roots  of  her  marcel  wave,  but  her  voice  showed 
no  emotion  when  she  spoke. 

"  Would  it  not  have  been  more  delicate  to  have  al~ 
lowed  my  son  to  have  told  me  this  piece  of  news," 
she  asked  me  cuttingly. 

"  I  was  not  thinking  much  about  the  delicacy  of  my 
call,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Evidently,"  she  agreed. 

"  I  have  come  simply  to  find  out  if  you  approve  of 
this  engagement  and,  if  not,  what  we  can  do  about  it." 

Mrs.  Sewall  looked  me  up  and  down  deliberately, 
then: 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  very  courageous  young  per 
son,"  she  said,  "  but  I  fear  this  interview  cannot  al 
ter  my  opinion.  Your  sister  is  no  doubt  a  very 
charming  young  girl,  but  I  have  other  ambitions  for 
my  son,  Mrs.  Maynard." 

"  I  thought  so.  I  guessed  it  from  a  conversation 
I  overheard,  and  that  is  why  I  have  come  this  morn 
ing.  I  thought  we  could  work  better  together  than 
alone." 

"  I  plainly  see,"  said  Mrs.  Sewall,  gazing  pityingly 
upon  me,  "  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  be  quite  blunt 
with  you.  Did  you  never  suspect  that  I  closed 
Grassmere  three  years  ago,  simply  to  separate  my  son 
from  your  sister?  As  soon  as  I  learned  that  my  son 
actually  intended  to  marry  Miss  Vars  I  was  forced  to 


320      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

take  him  to  a  different  environment.  When  you  con 
sider  that  I  have  fought  against  this  attachment  for 
so  long,  you  will  see  how  absurd  it  is  for  you  to  hope 
to  win  my  approval  now,  however  bold  your  attempt." 

"  Oh,"  I  flushed,  "  it  isn't  to  win  your  approval 
that  I  am  here.  You  have  misunderstood  me.  It  is 
to  win,  or  rather  to  assure  myself  of  your  disapproval. 
You  see  I'm  not  in  favour  of  the  marriage  either." 

"  You're  not  in  favour  of  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Sewall  ejacu 
lated. 

"  I'm  not  in  favour  of  it,"  I  repeated.  "  Ruth 
doesn't  love  your  son.  She's  marrying  for  position 
—  and  I  want  to  save  her  from  such  unhappiness.  I 
don't  want  her  to  marry  any  one  she  doesn't  love," 
I  hastened  to  add. 

"  Well,  well,"  Mrs.  Sewall  interrupted,  "  this  is  a 
novel  experience  for  me.  I  wonder,"  she  broke  off 
in  a  sudden  burst  of  friendliness,  sarcasm  and  patron 
age  gone  from  her  voice,  "  I  wonder  I  never  discov 
ered  you  in  Hilton,  Mrs.  Maynard."  Then  she 
added  with  an  amused  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "  You  are 
rather  unlike  your  very  enterprising  sister-in-law, 
Mrs.  Alexander  Vars." 

"  Yes,"  I  smiled,  "  perhaps  a  little.  I  have  rather 
old-fashioned  ideas  on  marriage,  I  suppose." 

"  I  trust,"  Mrs.  Sewall  went  on,  "  that  you  are 
sincere  in  saying  you  are  opposed  to  this  affair  be 
tween  your  sister  and  my  son." 

"  Sincere?  Oh,  yes,  truly.  Perfectly  sincere." 
I  blushed  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  I  believe  you  —  oh,  I  believe  you,"  Mrs.  Sewall 
reassured  me  quickly.  "  I  know  without  your  saying 
so  that  there  may  be  other  grounds  why  you  object 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      321 

to  your  sister's  engagement.  You  know,"  she 
smiled,  "  there  is  a  different  code  of  morals  for  every 
class  of  society  that  exists." 

"  I  know,"  I  murmured. 

"  But  we  won't  go  into  that.  It  is  sufficient  that 
you  do  object.  And  now  that  we  discover  ourselves 
to  be,  instead  of  enemies,  fellow  soldiers,  fighting  to 
gether  on  the  same  side  for  the  same  cause,  I  am  go 
ing  to  be  very  frank  and  tell  you  how  low  my  ammu 
nition  is.  I  am  powerless  to  do  anything  to  influence 
this  affair,  I  fear.  A  mother's  wishes  are  of  little 
account  these  days  —  my  advice,  my  desires,  not 
worth  consideration.  There  are  some  things,  I  am 
learning,  that  I  cannot  control.  A  determined  and 
hot-tempered  young  man  in  love  with  an  ambitious 
girl,  who  sees  wealth  and  position  in  her  lover's  pro 
posals,  is  a  combination  beyond  hope  of  breaking 
up." 

"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't,"  I  interrupted. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  have  opposed  and  opposed.  My  son  knows  my 
hostile  and  bitter  attitude  toward  the  whole  affair. 
It  does  not  make  the  slightest  dent  upon  his  intentions. 
I  have  talked  by  the  hour;  I  have  cajoled;  I  have 
threatened;  but  to  no  avail.  Mrs.  Maynard,  my  son 
ought  to  marry  a  girl  with  money.  His  fortune  is 
greatly  overestimated,  and  until  he  ran  across  your 
sister  again  —  oh,  by  the  merest  chance  three  months 
ago  on  Fifth  Avenue  —  he  was  devoted  to  his  cousin, 
Miss  Gale  Oliphant,  whom  you  may  have  read  about 
when  she  made  her  brilliant  debut  last  season.  I 
heartily  approve  of  such  a  match — *  appropriate  in 
every  way." 


322      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Of  course,"  I  tucked  in.  "  Why,  Ruth  has  barely 
enough  to  buy  her  necessary  clothes." 

"Exactly,"  Mrs.  Sewall  sighed.  "Oh,  I  don't 
know  how  it  all  will  work  out;  I  really  don't  know. 
At  least  your  sister  is  a  nice  girl.  My  son  might 
have  chosen  some  one  who  wasn't  educated  or  cul 
tured  —  he  has  had  so  many  fancies  —  and  I  shall 
have  the  satisfaction  also,  I  suppose,  of  having 
avoided  the  notoriety  of  an  elopement.  My  consent 
was  forced  from  me,  but  it  seemed  the  only  way." 

"  Have  you  consented  ?  "  I  asked  alarmed. 

"  Reluctantly.  Why,  I  could  do  nothing  else. 
Breckenridge  threatened  a  month  ago  that  if  I  didn't 
consent  he  would  elope  with  Miss  Vars.  At  least,  if 
the  marriage  must  take  place,  it  had  better  be  de 
cently.  When  he  disappeared  from  home  a  week 
ago,  I  thought  the  worst  had  happened.  I  was  so 
relieved  when  I  placed  my  son  at  this  hotel  and  found 
he  was  still  single,  that  I  decided  to  accept  the  inev 
itable  with  as  much  grace  as  possible  now  that  I  had 
been  given  a  second  opportunity.  Breckenridge  says 
your  sister  will  marry  him  at  any  time  if  he  but  says 
the  word,  and  he  assures  me  he  will  say  it  unless  my 
note  of  welcome  reaches  Miss  Vars  —  to-morrow. 
So  — "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  That  isn't  true !  "  I  replied.  "  Not  a  word  of  it ! 
Ruth  wouldn't  elope  for  anything  in  the  world.  She's 
awfully  proud,  Mrs.  Sewall.  I  ought  not  to  have 
done  it,  but  I  listened  to  a  private  conversation  be 
tween  Ruth  and  your  son.  I  heard  Ruth  say,  when 
your  son  suggested  a  secret  marriage,  that  the  idea 
was  absolutely  insulting  to  her.  She  was  awfully  an 
gry,  and  that  was  only  last  night  at  eleven  o'clock." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      323 

"You  heard  her  say  that?  Last  night?  You  are 
sure?" 

"  Yes,"  I  went  on  quickly,  "  and  what  is  more  I 
heard  her  say  she  would  never  marry  Breck  in  this 
world  till  you  accepted  her  publicly  as  his  fiancee. 
It  was  when  I  heard  that,  that  I  decided  to  come  and 
talk  with  you." 

"  Breckenridge  has  been  misrepresenting  the  situa 
tion,"  Mrs.  Sewall  remarked. 

"  Ruth  is  ambitious,"  I  went  on.  "  Ruth  is  fond 
of  wealth  and  position,  but  she's  the  proudest  girl  I 
ever  knew.  I  thought  if  you  understood  how  impor 
tant  a  part  you  and  your  attitude  played  in  the  en 
gagement,  you  could  act  accordingly.  Ruth  would 
break  it  off  herself,  if  —  it  sounds  awfully  disloyal  to 
her  —  but  if  you  made  the  situation  uncomfortable 
enough  for  her.  I'm  sure  of  it." 

Mrs.  Sewall  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the  little 
mahogany  desk. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  maid  had  already  mailed  it,"  she 
exclaimed,  holding  up  the  little  square  envelope  with 
Ruth's  name  and  my  address  upon  it.  "  It  was  a 
note  of — "  she  smiled  wryly — "of  welcome  to  your 
sister.  How  fortunate,"  she  added,  "  that  you  called 
just  when  you  did.  It  throws  a  different  light  on  the 
matter." 

I  remained  with  Mrs.  Sewall  until  nearly  twelve 
o'clock.  We  talked  the  situation  threadbare  before  I 
left.  I  told  her  all  I  knew  of  Ruth's  hopes  and  vis 
ions  of  the  future.  I  repeated  my  sister's  speech  to 
Will  of  the  peculiar  demands  of  her  temperament.  I 
discussed  her  as  freely  as  if  she  were  a  patient  with 
important  symptoms,  and  Mrs.  Sewall  the  physician. 


324      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

I  explained  the  situation  in  Hilton,  Edith's  influence 
upon  Ruth,  at  what  a  high  value  my  sister-in-law 
placed  Mrs.  Sewall's  recognition,  how  persistently  she 
preached  the  advantage  of  a  connection  by  marriage. 
In  the  face  of  the  force  of  Edith's  influence,  I  pointed 
out  Ruth's  saving  traits  of  pride  and  self-esteem. 
Ruth  was  as  haughty  as  the  highest.  I  enlarged  on 
the  absolute  impossibility  of  an  elopement  as  far  as 
my  high-spirited  sister  was  concerned.  Oh,  I  urged 
Ruth's  humiliation  as  the  only  hope  for  success! 

Before  I  left  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Mrs. 
Sewall  tear  up  my  sister's  card  of  introduction  to  the 
Sewall  family,  and  deposit  the  remains  in  the  waste- 
basket.  As  I  rose  to  go  Mrs.  Sewall  took  my  hand 
in  both  of  hers.  Edith,  I  am  sure,  would  have  been 
surprised  if  she  could  have  witnessed  such  intimacy 
between  grand  Mrs.  F.  Rockridge  Sewall  and  Bob- 
bikins. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came,"  she  said.  "  I  owe  you 
so  much.  I  haven't  entirely  decided  on  my  exact 
course,  but  if  you  later  hear  of  my  opening  Grass- 
mere,  do  not  be  surprised.  There  may  be  method  in 
my  madness." 

"  I'll  leave  it  all  with  you,"  I  reassured  her.  "  Only 
I  hope  you  won't  make  it  any  worse  for  Ruth  than 
necessary." 

"  I  won't,  my  dear ;  and  by  the  way,  sometime  when 
you  are  in  Hilton,  will  you  let  me  know?  Or  by  any 
chance  in  New  York?  After  this  we  surely  must  be 
friends." 

"  Instead  of  connections  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  would  be  delightful  as  both,"  she  laughed, 
and  I  bade  her  good-bye. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      325 

I  felt  like  a  traitor  that  night  at  dinner.  Ruth 
never  seemed  sweeter.  She  had  explained  as  she  sat 
down  to  our  evening  meal  that  she  was  going  to  visit 
with  Will  and  me  alone  that  night.  She  was  return 
ing  to  Hilton  in  two  days  and  she  had  told  Breck 
that  one  evening  at  least,  she  intended  to  devote  to 
her  sister.  I  felt  dreadfully  guilty.  But  for  me,  her 
long-looked-for,  much-coveted  note  of  welcome  from 
Mrs.  Sewall  would  now  be  on  its  way  to  her;  but  for 
me,  her  bright  visions  of  a  social  position  being  placed 
upon  her  head  like  a  crown  would  have  become  a 
reality.  I  wished  she  wouldn't  keep  on  piling  coals 
of  fire  upon  my  head.  She  started  in  on  her  appre 
ciation  of  my  hospitality  right  after  dinner.  She  said 
she  would  always  remember  her  nice  little  breakfasts 
that  I  had  served  her  in  bed,  whatever  her  future  life 
might  be  (and  she  implied  that  it  promised  to  be  rather 
grand)  ;  she  remarked  she  hoped  I  didn't  believe  all 
that  she  said  to  Will  the  first  night  she  was  with  us; 
she  assured  me  that  my  quiet  and  gracious  acceptance 
of  Breck  had  made  an  impression  that  she  would  never 
forget.  She  kissed  me  good-night  of  her  own  accord. 

I  told  Will  about  my  call  on  Mrs.  Sewall  as  soon 
as  we  were  safely  in  our  room.  I  wanted  to  get  the 
secret  knowledge  of  it  off  my  mind.  I  was  beginning 
to  feel  a  little  apprehensive  and  doubtful.  I  really 
don't  know  what  right  I  have  to  snatch  Ruth's  life 
away  from  her  and  treat  it  as  if  it  were  mine.  But 
Will  always  reassures  me. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  you  do  succeed  in  breaking 
off  this  disreputable  affair,  Lucy,  I'll  take  off  my  hat 
to  you,  and  so  will  Ruth  —  some  day." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  she  will?  "  I  asked  relieved. 


326      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Know  it.  My,  but  what  a  girl  I  did  marry ! 
You  do  take  the  bull  by  the  horns.  If  you  had  had 
a  son  what  a  staver  he  would  have  been." 

I  forgot  Ruth  and  her  affairs  in  a  twinkling. 

I  wilted  like  a  flower  plucked  from  its  stem. 

"  You  used  to  say  that  in  the  simple  future,  and 
now  it's  past  subjunctive,"  I  trembled. 

Will  laughed  at  me.  "  Don't  like  my  tenses ! 
What  a  particular  person !  Well,  how's  this  ?  Here's 
a  sentence  in  the  simple  present.  It  always  has  been 
present  tense,  always  will  be  present."  He  leaned 
and  whispered  something  in  my  ear. 

"  Pooh !  "  I  scoffed,  smiling  for  his  sake.  "  That's 
too  easy.  It's  the  first  tense  of  the  first  verb  given 
in  every  grammar  of  every  language  in  the  world! " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IT  was  five  months  later,  sometime  during  the  last  of 
September,  that  I  again  heard  directly  from  Ruth 
and  her  love-affair  with  Breckenridge  Sewall. 

Miss  Kavenaugh,  the  dollar-and-a-half-a-day  uni 
versity  seamstress,  had  come  to  help  me  with  my  mus 
lin  curtains.  Miss  Kavenangh  is  a  very  much-sought- 
after  lady,  and  when  I  am  able  to  secure  her  for  a 
day,  I  give  up  everything  else,  sit  down  and  sew  with 
her.  She  plans,  cuts  and  bastes,  and  I  run  the  chain- 
stitch  machine  like  mad.  We  had  been  working  since 
eight  A.  M.  in  my  darling  new  bedroom  that  looks  out 
on  my  row  of  late  dahlias.  I  could  hardly  keep  my 
eyes  on  the  machine-needle  because  of  the  distracting 
flame  of  several  maple-trees  against  some  dark  green 
cedars  across  the  lake.  Will  and  I  had  been  in  our 
new  house  about  two  weeks  and  we  adored  it!  I 
was  perched  on  the  step-ladder  at  the  particular  mo 
ment  the  telephone  bell  rang,  hanging  the  last  muslin 
curtain  in  the  room  we  called  Ruth's.  Miss  Kaven 
augh  was  puttering  with  the  cretonne  overhangings, 
pulling  and  patting  them  as  tenderly  as  if  they  had 
been  dainty  dresses  hung  up  on  forms. 

It  was  Ruth  on  the  telephone  calling  me  from  town. 

"  I'm  in  here  shopping,"  she  said.  "  Can  you  pos 
sibly  come  in  and  have  lunch?  Do,  if  you  can.  I 
want  to  see  you." 

Now  whenever  Ruth  did  honour  me  with  an  invi 
tation  to  luncheon  it  was  in  quite  a  different  manner. 

327 


328      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

To-day  she  actually  asked  me  to  set  the  hour  and 
seemed  inclined  to  adapt  her  plans  to  mine.     I  didn't 
want   to   leave   Miss    Kavenaugh    in   the   least    (she 
couldn't  give  me  another  day  for  a  week),  but  if  Ruth' 
was  as  anxious  to  see  me  as  all  that,  I  decided  I  had/ 
better  meet  her  if  it  broke  a  bone.     I  told  her  I  would* 
be  at  the  appointed  place  at  one-thirty. 

Since  June,  Will  and  I  had  been  buried  in  a  little 
out-of-the-way  spot  in  Newfoundland.  The  few 
letters  that  I  had  received  had  scarcely  mentioned 
Ruth's  affairs.  Only  one  from  my  sister  herself 
early  in  July  had  given  me  any  inkling  that 
Mrs.  Sewall  was  acting  on  my  suggestion.  In  that 
letter  Ruth  had  briefly  said  that  her  engagement  to 
Breck  would  probably  not  be  announced  till  fall,  and 
asked  me  to  say  nothing  about  the  matter  to  any  one. 
I  was  delighted  not  to. 

Ruth  was  looking  as  pretty  as  ever,  when  I  finally 
found  myself  sitting  opposite  to  her  at  one  of  the  side 
tables  in  the  dining-room  of  the  only  hotel  in  town 
where  she  will  condescend  to  eat.  If  she  had  any 
thing  of  importance  on  her  mind  she  certainly  exhi 
bited  no  outward  agitation.  She  was  dressed  in  a 
scant,  tailor-made  white  serge  suit,  and  had  on  a  big, 
floppy,  soft,  fur- felt  hat,  which  no  other  woman  I 
know  would  have  attempted  to  wear.  It  was  laven 
der  in  shade  and  the  brim  drooped  as  if  it  had  lost  all 
its  stiffening.  Around  the  crushed  crown  was  tied  a 
piece  of  hemp  rope.  I  never  saw  a  hat  like  it  in  any 
shop.  Ruth  is  always  discovering  odd,  outlandish 
"  shapes  "  in  the  millinery  line  and  trimming  them  up 
with  things  no  one  ever  thought  of  putting  on  a  hat 
before.  This  particular  creation  looked  as  if  it  had 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      329 

been  blown  on  to  Ruth's  head,  but  I  must  say  it  had 
landed  at  just  the  right  angle  to  reveal  a  bit  of  her 
pretty  hair,  and  to  frame  her  face  in  a  halo  of  soft 
mauve. 

"  What  shall  we  eat?  "  asked  Ruth  in  a  bored  little 
way,  and  tossed  me  a  menu.  After  we  had  decided 
on  mock-turtle  soup,  sweet-breads  a-la-something,  lit 
tle  peas,  and  Waldorf  salad  (Ruth  isn't  the  kind  to 
pick  up  a  ham-sandwich  and  cup  of  coffee  at  a  lunch- 
counter,  I  can  tell  you)  and  the  superior-looking 
waiter  had  departed,  Ruth  opened  her  shopping  bag 
and  tossed  two  dress  samples  down  upon  the  white 
cloth. 

"What  do  you  think  of  these?"  she  asked  non 
chalantly. 

I  wondered  if  Ruth  had  dragged  me  all  the  way 
in  town,  occupied  and  busy  as  I  had  been  at  home,  to 
show  me  dress  samples.  Always  the  psychological 
moment  to  share  a  confidence,  or  to  announce  a  start 
ling  piece  of  news,  is  after  the  waiter  has  departed 
with  your  order.  But  Ruth  took  her  own  time. 

"  I'm  trying  a  new  tailor,"  she  went  on.  "  I've  or 
dered  the  black-and-white  stripe.  It's  very  good  in  the 
piece.  By  the  way,  don't  you  prefer  butter  without 
salt?  Waiter!"  Ruth  is  very  imperious  when  she 
jis  in  a  hotel.  Clerks  and  maids  and  bell-boys  simply 
/fly  to  obey  when  Ruth  gives  an  order.  We  were  sup 
plied  with  crescents,  corn-muffins  and  slim  brown- 
bread  sandwiches,  fresh  butter,  ice-water  and  two 
napkins  apiece,  before  a  man  lunching  alone  at  the 
next  table  could  get  his  glass  refilled. 

It  wasn't  until  we  were  well  started  on  our  elabo 
rate  menu,  that  Ruth  thought  best  to  gratify  my  curi- 


330      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

osity.  It  was  while  she  was  pouring  the  tea,  and  after 
I  had  given  up  hope  that  she  had  anything  thrilling 
to  announce  to  me  after  all,  that  she  asked,  "  Sugar,  I 
believe?"  and  then  as  she  dropped  one  little  crystal 
cube  into  the  cup  added,  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  I've  broken 
my  engagement  to  Breck  Sewall." 

I  didn't  show  a  trace  of  wonder  or  surprise. 

"  Is  that  so?  "  I  said,  as  if  I  didn't  much  care  if  she 
had,  and  then  after  I  had  taken  a  swallow  of  tea  I 
asked,  "  How  did  that  happen?" 

"  Oh,  I  simply  decided  to,"  Ruth  replied  shortly ; 
and  as  if  the  subject  were  closed,  she  inquired, 
"  How's  the  new  house?  " 

I  was  simply  aching  to  ask  a  few  questions,  but  I 
didn't  allow  myself  even  one. 

"  Oh,  it's  very  nice,"  I  replied ;  "  we've  been  in  it 
two  weeks  now." 

"  How  did  the  lavender  room  turn  out  ?  "  asked 
Ruth,  travelling  away  as  fast  as  possible  from  the  sub 
ject  of  her  engagement. 

"  Your  room,  Ruth,  you  mean,"  I  replied  patiently. 
"  Very  well,  I  think." 

"  Is  it  finished  yet  ?  I  mean  could  any  one  sleep  in 
it  —  to-night  ?  " 

"  Will  you  come  home  with  me,  Ruth  ?  "  I  asked 
eagerly. 

"  I  thought  I  might  —  possibly,  if  you'd  like  to  have 
me,  and  if  you  have  an  empty  bed.  At  least,"  she 
added,  "  I'm  not  going  back  to  The  Homestead." 

"  Oh,  you're  not!  "  I  replied,  vaguely  wondering  if 
it  were  the  tailor  who  was  keeping  her  or  the  mani 
curist.  "  Well,  I  can  lend  you  a  nightgown  and  you 
can  buy  a  tooth-brush." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      331 

"  Oh,  my  trunk  is  at  the  station/'  said  Ruth.  "  I 
was  determined  to  go  somewhere.  You  see  things 
are  not  very  pleasant  for  me  just  now  in  Hilton.  Be 
sides,  Edith  and  I  have  quarrelled." 

It  wasn't  very  charitable  to  rejoice  at  such  an  an 
nouncement;  it  wasn't  very  noble  of  me,  I  suppose,  to 
delight  that  conditions  at  Hilton  were  too  disagree 
able  for  Ruth  to  remain  there;  but  remember  I  had 
always  wanted  to  shelter  my  sister  —  remember  I  had 
always  been  jealous  of  her  loyalty  and  devotion  to 
Edith,  and  remember,  also,  ever  since  the  plans  of 
our  house  had  been  put  on  paper,  I  had  hoped  and  al 
most  prayed  that  some  one  would  wish  to  sleep  in  the 
southeast  chamber. 

I  reached  for  a  biscuit  to  help  conceal  my  feelings. 

"  Well,"  I  said  steadily,  "  your  room  is  ready,  and 
you're  free  to  use  it  or  not,  as  you  wish." 

"  It  won't  be  for  very  long,"  apologised  Ruth,  "  and 
perhaps  I  can  help  you  settle.  You  mustn't  let  me  be 
the  least  bother.  I  haven't  forgotten,  you  know," 
she  said  smiling,  "  how  to  wipe  dishes." 

"  Didn't  there  used  to  be  a  lot  of  them  in  the  old 
days  at  home,"  I  remarked. 

"  And  wasn't  I  horrid?"  she  followed  up  in  a  sud 
den  burst  of  generosity.  "  Wasn't  I  horrid  about 
helping?  I  was  never  very  nice  to  you,  I'm  afraid, 
Lucy." 

"  Of  course  you  were !  "  I  scoffed. 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  wasn't,  but  you  used  to  be  awfully 
rabid.  It  seems  to  me  you've  improved  a  great  deal 
in  that  respect  since  you  were  married.  I  noticed  it 
when  I  visited  you  last  spring."  She  stopped  a  mo 
ment.  Then,  "  I  want  to  tell  you,"  she  went  onr 


332      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  that  I  think  you  were  awfully  decent  about  Breck 
Sewall.  You  may  not  have  liked  him,  but  I  appreci 
ated  your  not  trying  to  urge  and  influence  me,  the  way 
Will  did.  If  you  had  mixed  yourself  up  in  the  affair 
too  much  I  wouldn't  feel  like  coming  to  you  now." 

I  lowered  my  eyes  as  a  hypocrite  should. 

"  Of  course  not,"  I  murmured  ashamed. 

Suddenly  Ruth  shoved  her  tea-cup  to  one  side,  her 
plate  to  the  other,  and  folding  her  hands  on  the  table 
in  front,  abruptly  launched  out  into  the  midst  of  the 
details  of  her  broken  engagement. 

"  Edith,"  she  began,  "  is  willing  to  humiliate  her 
self  to  any  degree  for  the  sake  of  a  promotion  in  the 
social  world.  Now  I'm  too  proud  to  stoop  to  some 
things.  Edith  actually  advised  me  to  marry  Breck 
without  Mrs.  Sewall's  approval.  She  said  Mrs.  Sew- 
all  would  be  sure  to  come  around  once  the  affair  was 
settled.  Could  you  imagine  me  in  such  a  position?" 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  didn't  Mrs.  Sewall  approve?" 

"Haven't  you  heard?"  asked  Ruth.  "Every  one 
else  has.  It  has  been  anything  but  pleasant.  When 
I  wrote  you  that  my  engagement  wouldn't  be  an 
nounced  till  fall  it  was  simply  because  I  hadn't  heard 
from  Mrs.  Sewall.  Breck  said  he  hadn't  told  his 
mother  and  I  believed  him.  She  was  ill  or  something, 
and  I  was  willing  to  wait  until  it  seemed  wise  to  break 
the  news  to  her.  I  was  willing  to  meet  her  half-way, 
you  see.  I  meant  to  be  patient  with  Mrs.  Sewall. 
Of  course  I  realise  I  have  no  money  nor  position ;  but 
I  won't  be  insulted  by  any  one !  She  opened  Grass- 
mere  in  August,  and  brought  along  with  her  a  young 
niece  of  hers,  a  Miss  Oliphant  —  a  silly  creature,  I 
thought;  and  she  set  in  entertaining  for  her  as  she's 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      333 

never  entertained  before.  Hilton  has  never  been  so 
gay,  and  everyone  who  was  within  the  range  of  pos 
sibility  was  invited  to  Grassmere  —  everybody  except 
Edith  and  me.  Think  of  it!  Think  of  the  insult! 
It  was  the  most  pointed  thing  you  ever  saw.  Edith 
is  simply  furious.  Mrs,  Sewall  avoids  her  everywhere 
she  sees  her,  and  me  too  for  that  matter.  /  don't 
mind  so  much.  It  is  Edith  whom  it  stings  so.  / 
simply  long  for  a  chance  to  cut  Mrs.  Sewall.  That's 
my  attitude.  However  I  don't  enjoy  being  gossiped 
about,  and  all  Hilton  is  buzzing.  Oh,  it's  horrid !  " 

"  I  should  say  so,"  I  murmured,  stunned  by  the 
disaster  I  had  caused. 

"  Well,  during  it  all  Breck  has  kept  right  on  coming 
to  see  me  —  late  every  night  after  his  social  engage 
ments  at  Grassmere.  That  was  the  feature  I  hated 
most,  and  the  one  that  Edith,  on  the  other  hand,  clung 
to  as  our  only  hope  of  salvation.  But  I'm  not  the 
kind  to  become  the  secret  fancy  of  any  man,  even  if 
he  is  the  King  of  England.  If  I'm  not  good  enough 
for  his  mother  to  recognise,  then  I  don't  want  any 
thing  of  him.  Anyhow  I  consider  myself,  from  the 
point"  of  view  of  culture  and  education,  superior  to 
the  Sewalls !  " 

"  Of  course,"  I  agreed. 

"  The  whole  thing  has  made  me  sick  and  tired  of 
the  social  game,"  ejaculated  Ruth.  "  I  don't  believe 
there's  any  such  thing  as  pure,  unadulterated  friend 
ship  between  people  who  are  socially  ambitious. 
Why,  some  of  the  girls,  who  I  thought  were  my  best 
friends,  have  been  acting  very  cool  and  offish  since 
they've  observed  Mrs.  Sewall's  attitude  towards  me. 
And  both  Edith  and  I  are  omitted  from  lots  of  other 


334      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

people's  parties  besides  the  Sewalls,  simply  because 
Airs.  Sewall  and  Miss  Oliphant  are  often  the  guests 
of  honour.  Oh,  I  think  that  all  women  are  vain 
and  selfish  and  insincere,  and,  if  sometimes  they  ap 
pear  thoughtful  or  sacrificing,  it's  simply  because  such 
an  attitude  toward  someone  will  help  them  up  an 
other  rung  on  the  ladder.  I'd  like  to  get  away  from 
society  for  a  while.  It  almost  seems,"  Ruth  added 
vehemently,  "  as  if  I'd  like  to  enter  a  convent!  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Ruth  "  I  began. 

"  There's  nothing  for  you  to  be  sorry  about.  You 
couldn't  help  it.  If  I  only  had  more  money,"  Ruth 
went  on,  "  I'd  travel.  I'd  escape  this  sort  of  life. 
But  what  can  any  one  do  on  my  income  ?  Eight  hun 
dred  dollars!  And  I  won't  take  any  more  from 
Edith." 

"  Did  you  quarrel  very  badly?  "  I  dared  to  ask. 

"  Oh,  quite.  She  went  into  an  awful  passion  when 
I  told  her  that  I'd  broken  the  engagement.  She 
called  me  a  short-sighted  little  fool!  Breck,  you  see, 
wanted  me  to  marry  him  in  spite  of  his  mother.  Im 
agine  me  eloping!  I  wouldn't  do  such  a  vulgar  thing. 
Edith  said  that  her  mother  had  run  off  with  her  father 
(imagine  comparing  me  to  that  impossible  Mrs. 
Campbell!)  and  that  if  I  didn't  marry  Breck  every 
body  would  think  he  had  gotten  tired  of  me  —  cast 
me  off,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  don't  get  angry 
often,  but  I  gave  Edith  a  piece  of  my  mind  that  I 
guess  she'll  remember  for  a  long  time,  and  Alec 
didn't  like  it  a  bit.  So  this  morning  I  just  decided  to 
decamp." 

"  But  of  course  Breck  will  follow  you,"  I  suggested 
•cheer  fully. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      335 

"  Oh,  no,  he  won't.  I've  quarrelled  with  him  too." 
Ruth  smiled.  "  I  seem  to  have  quarrelled  with  every 
body.  But  Breck  threatened,  and  threats  never  have 
the  least  effect  on  me.  He  really  did  want  to  marry 
me,  in  spite  of  what  people  said  about  his  marked  at 
tentions  to  this  Oliphant  girl.  He  was  crazy  to  marry 
me.  Things  got  to  an  awful  pitch  of  excitement  and 
one  night  three  days  ago,  he  said  that  if  I  wouldn't 
run  off  with  him  in  the  dark  like  some  common  girl 
in  a  newspaper  story,  and  get  married  by  a  country 
parson  along  the  road  somewhere,  he  wasn't  going  to 
spend  any  more  of  his  time  waiting  around.  He  said 
that  Gale  —  that's  Miss  Oliphant  —  would  marry 
him,  mother  or  no  mother;  she  had  some  heart  and 
feeling  in  her.  I  told  him  that  /  on  the  other  hand 
wouldn't  lower  my  self-respect  one  iota,  for  love,  or 
position,  or  any  other  reason.  And  so  ... 
well,  here  I  am,  with  all  my  bridges  burned.  By  the 
way,"  Ruth  broke  off,  "  please  don't  ask  me  to  dis 
cuss  this  matter  with  Will.  He  was  too  intolerant 
last  spring  for  me  to  care  to  talk  it  over  with  him 
now." 

"  You  needn't  mention  it  to  him,"  I  assured  her. 

"  You  can  imagine,"  said  Ruth,  "  that  I'm  not  feel 
ing  very  much  like  talking  about  it  to  any  one." 

"  I  understand,  and  we  won't  refer  to  it  at  all.  I 
know  how  hard  it  is,  Ruth, —  but  time  —  " 

"  Oh,  time ! "  replied  my  sophisticated  sister. 
"  There's  no  scar  on  my  heart  for  time  to  heal.  You 
see  now,  don't  you,  how  safe  it  is  to  keep  such  affairs 
strictly  in  the  region  of  one's  head." 

Two  or  three  weeks  later  I  received  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Sewall.  I  didn't  know  her  writing  but  I  saw 


336      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

Grassmere  engraved  on  the  envelope,  so  I  suspected 
before  I  broke  the  seal. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Maynard, 

"  You  will  be  interested  to  know  that  the  engagement 
of  Miss  Gale  Oliphant  to  my  son  is  to  be  publicly  an 
nounced  on  Wednesday  next.  But  for  you  I  am  afraid 
this  very  happy  alliance  might  not  have  been  arranged. 
Relying  absolutely  on  what  you  told  me  I  could  expect 
from  your  sister  I  have  acted  on  your  suggestion,  with 
these  results.  I  was  sorry  to  treat  so  lovely  a  girl  as 
your  sister  seems  to  be  in  so  cruel  a  manner,  but  such 
an  object-lesson  seemed  to  me  the  most  effectual  way  of 
showing  what  a  future  relation  with  me  might  prove 
to  be.  Let  me  say  I  think  she  is  a  very  fine-principled 
and  high-minded  girl,  and  another  season  when  I  shall 
return  to  Grassmere  with  my  son  and  his  bride  I  trust 
I  may  see  a  great  deal  of  her.  Another  season  I  hope 
I  may  set  everything  right  with  Mrs.  Alexander  Vars 
also,  whom  it  seemed  necessary  to  sacrifice  for  a  little 
while  to  our  cause,  if,  in  fact,  I  cannot  do  something 
toward  reparation  this  year  in  the  few  weeks  left  before 
I  return  to  New  York.  Let  me  add  with  all  heartiness 
that  I  am  particularly  anticipating  the  pleasure  of  enter 
taining,  sometime  soon,  an  old  fellow-soldier  of  mine. 

"  Sincerely, 

"  FRANCES  ROCKRIDGE  SEWALL." 

n 

"  Take  off  your  hat,"  I  said  to  my  husband  late  that 
night.  "  You  promised  you  would.  The  engage 
ment  is  broken.  Breck  Sewall  is  going  to  marry  his 
cousin,  and  Ruth  is  in  bed  in  the  southeast  chamber." 

During  the  weeks  immediately  following  Ruth's  de 
cision  in  regard  to  Breck  Sewall,  she  became  an  ab 
sorbingly  interesting  proposition,  to  herself.  For  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      337 

first  month  she  wouldn't  show  any  interest  in  anything 
outside  her  own  problem.  Ruth  has  admirers  where- 
ever  she  goes  and  under  any  circumstances;  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  learned  that  she  was  staying  with  me 
the  telephone  began  to  ring  every  day  —  the  door-bell 
every  night  or  so  with  would-be  suitors.  But  Ruth 
wouldn't  see  any  of  her  callers  or  accept  any  invita 
tions.  She  assumed  such  a  blase  and  indifferent  at 
titude  toward  life  that  it  worried  me.  She  used  to 
take  long  walks  alone  over  the  hills  and  improvise  by 
the  hour  by  firelight  in  our  living-room.  Evenings 
after  dinner  she  spent  in  her  own  room  reading  Mar 
cus  Aurelius,  Omar  Khayyam,  Oscar  Wilde  and  Marie 
Bashkirtseff.  I  used  to  find  the  books  missing  from 
the  book-shelves,  and  discover  them  on  the  couch  in 
Ruth's  room  later.  A  drop-light  arranged  on  a  small 
table  by  the  head  of  the  couch,  a  soft  down  quilt 
wrapped  around  a  china-silk  negligee,  and  Ruth 
nestled  down  inside  of  all  that,  was  the  picture  to 
which  Will  and  I  always  sang  out  good-night  when 
we  closed  our  door  at  ten  P.M.  She  used  to  devote 
several  hours  a  day  to  writing,  but  whether  it  was  a 
novel  or  an  epic  poem  that  she  was  so  busy  about,  I 
didn't  know.  She  kept  her  papers  safely  locked  away 
in  her  trunk  and  I  didn't  like  to  intrude  on  her  in 
timacy.  I  think  Ruth  rather  enjoyed  herself  during 
these  first  days  after  the  settlement  of  her  affair 
with  Breck.  Her  newly-won  independence,  her 
freedom,  brought  about  entirely  by  her  own 
will  and  volition,  filled  her  with  a  little  self- 
admiration.  She  appealed  to  herself  as  rather 
an  unique  and  remarkable  young  person,  bear 
ing  the  interesting  distinction  of  a  broken  engagement. 


338      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

She  was  young  and  fresh  and  lovely,  and  belonged 
to  no  one ;  her  future  lay  in  her  own  hands ;  she  didn't 
know  what  she  should  do  with  it,  but  it  was  hers  — 
hers  alone,  and  full  of  all  sorts  of  exciting  possibili 
ties. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  anything  more  of  men  for  a 
long  time,"  she  would  say.  "  I  haven't  decided  yet 
what  I'm  going  to  go  into,  but  I  want  to  do  some 
thing.  I  want  to  see  all  sides  of  life.  I  have  had 
enough  of  society  and  bridge  and  silly  girls  who  only 
want  to  get  married.  I'm  seriously  considering  set 
tlement  work  in  New  York.  Sometime  I'd  like  to  go 
to  Paris  and  study  sculpture." 

At  the  end  of  Ruth's  third  week  with  us  —  one 
Saturday  night,  I  believe  it  was  —  the  door-bell  rang 
about  eight  o'clock.  The  maid  answered  it  and  when 
she  came  upstairs  and  passed  by  the  door  of  Will's 
study  (which  is  a  little  room  over  the  front  door  and 
where  we  sit  evenings)  I  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"  Thank  goodness,  it's  for  Ruth.  I  did  want  to  finish 
this  ruffle."  And  a  moment  later  I  added,  "  I  wonder 
what  excuse  she'll  send  down  to-night." 

I  was  surprised  five  minutes  later  by  Ruth's  appear 
ance  in  the  door-way.  She  had  put  on  a  favourite 
gown  of  hers  —  crow-black  meteor  satin,  so  plain  it 
had  kind  of  a  naked  appearance,  with  a  V-shaped 
neck  that  showed  a  bit  of  Ruth's  throat.  There 
wasn't  a  scrap  of  any  kind  of  trimming  on  it. 

"Will  you  hook  this  up  please?"  she  asked,  and 
when  I  had  finished,  "  Thanks,"  she  said,  and 
with  no  explanation  went  downstairs. 

"  I  wonder  who  it  can  be!  "  I  exclaimed  after  she 
had  departed.  "  It's  the  first  one  she  has  seen." 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      339 

Will  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Oh,  it's  just  a  man.  Rest  assured  that  this  pose 
of  Ruth's  can't  last  much  longer.  Three  weeks  of  a 
diet  that  excludes  all  forms  of  masculine  admiration 
is  a  long  fast  for  Ruth.  They'll  be  calling  here  thick 
and  fast  now." 

But  it  wasn't  just  a  man !  About  nine-thirty  I  stole 
down  the  back  stairs  to  get  two  pieces  of  chocolate 
cake  and  two  glasses  of  milk  for  Will  and  me.  I 
peeked  into  the  front  hall  before  crawling  back  again. 

"  Will,"  I  said  two  minutes  later,  "  leaning  up 
against  the  Chippendale  chair  in  the  hall  is  a  man's 
walking-stick  and  it  has  got  a  plain  silver  top  like  Bob 
Jennings'.  I  introduced  Bob  to  Ruth  last  week  at  a 
Faculty  Tea  and  he  walked  home  with  her,  before  I 
was  ready  to  leave.  It  does  seem  odd  that  he  didn't 
send  cards  up  to  us  too,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

It  was  almost  eleven  o'clock  before  I  heard  the 
front  door  close  and  Ruth  snapping  off  the  lights  in 
the  living-room.  Will  was  staying  up  late  to-night, 
and  I  had  put  on  a  soft  wrapper  and  curled  up  in  the 
Morris-chair  with  a  magazine.  The  door  was  slightly 
ajar,  and  as  Ruth  passed  it  on  her  way  to  bed  she 
stopped  just  outside,  and  asked  softly: 

"Are  you  both  still  up?" 

"  Surely,"  I  replied.     "  Come  in." 

She  came  over  and  stood  by  the  table  where  Will 
was  working. 

"  Can  you  be  torn  away  from  your  precious  books 
for  a  while,  Will  ?  "  she  asked  sweetly. 

"  Of  course  I  can,"  he  replied. 

"  Because,"  Ruth  went  on,  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
something."  She  paused. 


340      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

"  Yes?  "  encouraged  Will.     "  Fire  away." 

"  I  suppose,"  Ruth  continued,  "  you  two  are  won 
dering  when  I  am  going  home.  I've  been  here  nearly 
a  month  now  and  I  ought  to  decide  what  I  am  going 
to  do.  I'd  like  your  advice  if  you're  not  too  busy." 

"  Certainly  I'm  not,"  Will  responded  heartily. 

Ruth  can  be  very  complimentary  and  deferential 
when  she  chooses.  She  chose  so  to  be  now.  Will 
closed  his  books.  Ruth  was  standing  by  the  table; 
her  tapering  finger-tips  just  reached  the  mahogany 
surface,  she  leaned  lightly  on  them ;  her  face  was  in 
the  shadow,  for  the  only  light  was  Will's  low  reading- 
lamp,  and  her  arms  suddenly  appearing  out  of  the 
dark  were  startlingly  white  and  pretty. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Jennings  who  called  to-night,"  she 
went  on.  "  I  saw  him  because  he  rather  interested  me 
last  week  when  I  met  him  at  one  of  your  Faculty 
Teas.  I  was  talking  with  him  to-night  a  little  about 
my  life.  It  came  in  after  I  had  read  him  a  few  of 
my  verses,  which  he  said  he  would  be  kind  enough  to 
give  me  his  opinion  about,  when  I  told  him  last  week 
that  I  wrote  a  little.  He  suggested  a  plan  that  rather 
appealed  to  me.  I  don't  know  what  you  think  of  it, 
but  he  says  that  there  are  a  lot  of  girls  who  take 
special  courses  here  at  Shirley  (Shirley  is  the  girls' 
college  connected  with  the  university)  and  that,  even 
though  I'm  not  a  college  girl,  he  thinks  he  could  ar 
range  for  me  to  take  a  course  or  two  in  poetry  and 
literature.  He  wants  me  to  develop  my  talent.  Oh, 
I'd  love  to  do  it ! "  Ruth  exclaimed,  suddenly  enthus 
iastic.  "  Mr.  Jennings  is  so  encouraging !  He 
thinks  I  really  might  write  something  worth  while 
some  day.  I've  always  thought  that  poetry  was  the 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      341 

very  highest  form  of  expression.  Mr.  Jennings 
thinks  so  too.  He  says,  Lucy,  that  you  attend  cer 
tain  courses  connected  with  the  university  that  would 
be  excellent  for  me.  He  says  that  I  could  go  to  some 
of  those  afternoons  with  you  perhaps.  He's  going  to 
get  the  Shirley  catalogue  and  lay  out  a  course  of  study 
for  me.  Do  you  suppose,  Will,  that  you  could  find  a 
place  for  me  to  room  somewhere  around  here?  " 

"  To  room,  Ruth  ?  Why,  we  should  want  you  to 
stay  right  here  with  us,"  I  exploded. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  Ruth  scoffed,  "  I  couldn't  break 
in  on  you  and  Will  that  way." 

"  But,  Ruth,"  I  began. 

"  Oh,  no,  Lucy,  I  wouldn't  do  that.  I've  been  fifth 
wheel  at  The  Homestead  for  years,  but  I  don't  in 
tend  to  be  here." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Will;  "we'd  like  to  have  you. 
Lucy  spent  a  lot  of  time  preparing  that  room  you're 
in  and  —  " 

"  No.  Please.  I  shan't  listen.  Why,  you  haven't 
even  talked  it  over.  Wait  till  morning  anyway.  I 
simply  came  in  to  ask  your  advice  on  my  turning  into 
a  '  blue-stocking.'  Do  you  think  it  absolutely  ridic 
ulous?" 

We  thought  it  was  splendid  —  both  Will  and  I. 
iWe  talked  and  planned  and  built  air-castles  with  Ruth 
(till  after  midnight.  She  even  read  us  some  of  her 
pretty  verses  and  before  she  went  to  bed  at  one  A.  M. 
she  had  already  become  a  poetess  of  renown  with  con 
tributions  appearing  frequently  in  the  most  exclusive 
magazines. 

A  new-found  genius  slept  in  the  southeast  chamber 
that  night,  and  at  seven  A.  M.  when  the  sun  and  I 


342      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

crawled  into  her  room  together  we  found  her  fast 
asleep  with  one  hand  tucked  cosily  under  her  cheek. 
Her  hair,  which  is  neither  blonde  nor  brown  but  kind 
of  a  dull  mouse-colour  and  almost  mauve  when  she 
wears  the  right  shade,  was  braided  and  flung  up  back 
over  the  pillow.  Upon  the  pillow  beside  her  lay  her 
left  hand  upturned  and  free  from  jewellery  of  any 
kind.  That  upturned  hand  had  kind  of  an  appealing, 
wistful  expression  about  it  that  made  me  want  to  cry. 
Somehow  the  sight  of  Ruth's  bare  unpromised  hand 
making  the  only  dent  on  the  surface  of  the  pillow  by 
her  side  filled  me  with  a  wave  of  thanksgiving.  She 
breathed  softly,  regularly,  her  violet-tinted  eyelids 
quivering  a  little,  a  half-smile  lingering  in  the  corners 
of  her  mouth.  A  fly  lit  on  Ruth's  chin  and,  un 
molested,  walked  audaciously  up  along  the  flushed, 
velvety  surface  of  her  cheek.  It  stopped  just  be 
neath  her  long-curved  eyelashes.  She  didn't  stir  — 
just  kept  on  with  her  even,  measured  breathing  and 
her  steady  sleep.  I  frightened  that  bold  creature 
away  with  a  wave  of  my  hand.  I  honestly  believe 
that  Breck  Sewall  hadn't  disturbed  my  sister  any  more 
than  the  fly  on  her  cheek.  She  seemed  to  me  the  most 
superbly  virginal  creature  I  had  ever  gazed  upon. 

I  sat  down  and  touched  her  shoulder  softly. 

"  It's  morning,"  I  said,  and  when  she  was  entirely 
awake  I  continued,  "  It's  morning,  and  you  wanted  us 
to  wait  till  morning.  We've  talked  it  all  over  to 
gether  alone  and  we  both  still  want  you  to  stay  with 
us  as  long  as  you  possibly  can.  Why,  Ruth,  we  built 
this  room  for  you  —  especially  for  you  —  and  I  do 
hope  you'll  like  it  well  enough  to  stay." 

"  It's  prettier  than  my   room  at  Edith's,"    replied 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGEP      343 

Rnth.  Then  suddenly  she  put  out  her  hand  and 
touched  my  knee.  "  Lucy,"  she  said,  "  I'm  crazy  to 
stay.  I'd  hate  a  stuffy  boarding-house." 

"  Of  course  you  would !  " 

"  This  is  so  adorably  fresh  and  clean  and  simgle. 
Have  you  and  Will  really  talked  it  all  over?  I  think 
I  ought  not  to  stay,  but  I'll  promise  not  to  be  the 
least  bother  in  the  world." 

"  Bother !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  I'll  be  busy  with  my  studies  daytimes  and  keep 
out  of  the  way  evenings.  Really,"  she  asked,  "  do 
you  want  me  ?  " 

"  We  really  do,"  I  said  solemnly. 

She  turned  and  suddenly  sat  up  beside  me  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed.  She  was  a  lovely  creature  with  her 
long  thick  hair,  her  white  arms,  and  her  pretty,  soft, 
beribboned  nightgown  falling  off  one  shoulder.  She 
seemed  too  lovely  to  be  my  sister.  She  flung  one  arm 
around  my  shoulders. 

"  Lucy,"  she  exclaimed,  "  from  this  time  on,  I'm 
going  to  be  nice  to  you." 

I  don't  remember  that  Ruth  had  ever  before  put 
her  arm  around  me  of  her  own  accord.  A  lump  came 
in  my  throat.  Tears  blinded  me.  I  got  up  hastily 
and  began  putting  down  the  windows. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IF  you  want  to  know  what  became  of  Ruth  I'll  tell 
you  —  I'll   tell   you   right   off.     She    fell    in   love 
with  Bob  Jennings.     She   fell  awfully  in  love  with 
him  —  absorbingly,    overwhelmingly   in    love.     Ruth, 
the  lofty,  the  high,  the  peclestalled !     Ruth  who  prided 
herself  on  her  coolness  and  her  circumspection,  Ruth 
who  boasted  that  fate    had  foreordained  a    brilliant 
marriage,  lost  her  head  over  a  young  college  instructor 
who   taught    English   composition   to    freshmen   and 
sophomores,   at  a   salary  something  less   than   three 
thousand  a  year.     It  simply  proves  that  the  eternal 
feminine  will  crop  out,  however  much   it  has  been 
choked  and  blighted,  just  like  a  dry  bulb  that's  been 
kept  in  a  damp  dark  cellar  all  winter.     Once  you  put 
it  in  the  sun  and  warmth,  and  give  it  a  little  water, 
it  just  can't  help  but  grow  up  bright  and  green  — 
brilliant  rank  green,    full  of  juicy   stalks  and  buds. 
Why,  Ruth  got  to  be  such  a  normal  sort  of  girl  that 
she  blushed  every  time  Bob's  name  was  mentioned. 
Ruth  the  invulnerable !     She  even  lost  her  appetite  — 
of  all   ordinary  things  —  and   great   circles   appeared 
under  her  eyes.     The  most  astounding  feature  to  me 
was  that  Ruth  fell  in  love  before  she  was  asked  to. 
Imagine  that  if  you  can.     Ruth  the  haughty!     The 
bulb  began  to  send  out  shoots  like  a  common  onion  or 
potato,  before  invited  by  the  sun.     Things  came  to 
such  a  pass  that  Will  finally  touched  on  the  delicate 
subject   with    Bob.     We   thought   the   man   must  be 

344 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      345 

blind,  crazy  or  heartless,  not  to  have  seen  the  tell-tale 
symptoms  in  Ruth's  manner  long  before  circles 
began  to  appear.  But  Will  found  that  Bob  was 
simply  penniless.  This  university  pays  salaries  about 
large  enough  to  keep  two  canaries  alive,  and  Bob  told 
Will  that  though  he  had  loved  Ruth  ever  since  the  day 
he  first  saw  her,  he  couldn't  say  a  word  to  her  about 
it,  because  he  already  had  a  mother  quite  alone  and 
dependent  living  with  him,  besides  a  sister  he  was 
trying  to  put  through  college,  and  he  knew  Ruth  was 
a  girl  who  had  been  used  to  luxuries. 

Bob  is  a  kind  of  dreamy  sort  of  man.  He  says  the 
simplest  things  in  a  way  that  thrills  you.  His  letters, 
even  his  notes  accepting  dinner  invitations  (and  such 
are  the  only  kind  I  have  ever  received)  have  a  kind  of 
"way"  with  them  —  exclamation  points  here  and 
there,  single  words,  capitalised  and  perioded,  to  ex 
press  a  whole  sentence.  Oh,  Bob  is  awfully  individ 
ual;  but  he'll  never  be  rich.  He's  a  teacher,  in  the 
first  place ;  and  in  the  second,  he  hasn't  a  father  with 
a  fortune.  When  I  realised  that  Ruth  loved  Bob 
Jennings,  I  was  worried  about  those  demands  of  that 
temperament  of  hers  —  the  soft-footed,  unobtrusive 
servants,  the  exquisite  china,  the  fine  lace,  the  dinners 
perfectly  served,  all  those  expensive  things  that  Bob 
couldn't  supply  in  a  lifetime.  If  only  Bob  had  had 
Breck's  fortune,  or  Breck  had  had  Bob's  poetic  soul, 
everything  would  have  been  all  right;  for  I  am  sure 
Ruth  would  have  eloped  with  Bob  Jennings  the  first 
time  he  asked  her. 

I  realised  that  Ruth  was  thinking  seriously  about 
Bob  Jennings  when  she  began  inquiring  of  Will  about 
the  salaries  of  instructors  at  the  university.  Later 


346      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

she  asked  me  how  much  rents  were,  in  this  section  of 
the  country.  She  was  perfectly  aware  from  the  very 
beginning  that  Bob  earned  just  about  enough  to  afford 
an  apartment  the  size  of  Oliver's  and  Madge's,  which 
she  had  formerly  pronounced  "  cunning  "  but  "  im 
possible."  If  Ruth,  as  she  boasted,  confined  matri 
monial  questions  to  the  region  of  her  head  she  ought 
to  have  sent  Bob  on  his  way  the  very  instant  that  she 
learned  these  salient  facts  about  him.  But  she  didn't. 
She  kept  right  on  seeing  him,  night  after  night,  as  if 
he  were  a  millionaire  who  could  supply  her  every  de 
sire  by  merely  dashing  off  his  signature.  She  kept 
on  reading  her  poetry  with  him,  discussing  art  and 
literature  by  the  hour,  and  quoting  him  to  me  all  the 
next  day  as  if  he  were  an  authority.  Ruth  simply 
lost  her  equilibrium  over  Bob.  I  don't  believe  she 
had  ever  seen  a  man  like  him  before.  He  certainly 
is  different  from  Breck  Sewall,  packed  with  senti 
ment,  full  impressions  and  delicate  sensibilities.  I 
overheard  him  talking  with  Ruth  about  women  smok 
ing  once.  He  said  you  might  as  well  deface  a  beauti 
ful  picture  by  painting  cigarettes  in  the  angels' 
mouths.  I  suppose  it  might  have  been  the  fact  of 
being  classed  with  the  angels  that  "  took  "  Ruth  so. 
Anyhow  she  wanted  Bob  for  her  own,  salary  or  no 
salary ;  she  wanted  him  so  badly  that  we  couldn't  even 
joke  on  the  subject  in  her  presence.  By  Christmas-  J 
time  the  situation  was  tragic. 

The  quarrel  with  Edith,  as  all  quarrels  with  Edith 
are  sure  to  be,  had  been  of  short  duration.  The  fact 
that  Mrs.  Sewall  had  invited  her  to  assist  at  a  tea 
before  her  final  departure  from  Hilton  had  assuaged 
her  grievances  somewhat  in  that  quarter.  Moreover 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      347 

a  startling  piece  of  news  in  the  New  York  papers  in 
early  December,  ten  days  before  the  Oliphant-Sewall 
wedding  was  to  take  place,  had  vindicated  Ruth's 
course  of  action  even  in  Edith's  eyes,  beyond  a  shadow 
of  doubt.  It  seems  that  there  was  already  a  Mrs. 
Breckenridge  Sewall.  Breck  had,  after  all,  been  more 
decent  than  Will  thought.  He  had  married  the  girl 
•whom  he  had  known  in  college,  and  it  was  she  who 
was  now  bringing  suit  against  the  groom-to-be.  So 
as  there  existed  nothing  but  kindly  feelings  between 
Edith  and  Ruth  now,  there  was  no  reason  why  Ruth 
should  not  have  spent  the  holidays  in  Hilton,  but  she 
simply  wouldn't  give  up  a  single  hour  with  Bob  Jen 
nings.  He  always  came  Tuesdays,  Thursdays,  Sat 
urdays  and  Sundays.  Our  electric-light  bill,  dim  as 
Ruth  prefers  the  room  to  be,  was  a  dollar  extra  a 
month,  after  Bob  began  to  call. 

I  was  glad  to  have  Ruth  with  me  during  the  Christ 
inas  vacation.  Otherwise  I  should  have  been  all 
alone.  Early  in  December  Will  had  gone  to  a  medical 
conference  of  some  kind  in  Chicago,  and  just  as  he 
was  about  to  start  for  home,  some  big  physician  out 
there  called  him  in,  in  consultation,  on  the  case  of  a 
little  boy,  who  had  some  awful  thing  the  matter  with 
his  spine.  He  was  the  son  of  a  millionaire,  and  ex 
perts  and  specialists  from  all  over  the  country  had 
given  up  hope  of  recovery.  The  father  was  just 
about  crazy  and  when  Will  suggested  some  radical 
treatment  of  his  own  which  he  had  tried  out  success 
fully  on  one  of  our  little  guinea-pigs,  he  wrote  that 
that  father  simply  clung  to  him  bodily,  got  hold  of 
him  with  his  hands  and  told  him  he  could  have  every 
cent  of  money  that  he  possessed  in  the  world  if  he'd 


348      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

only  give  him  back 'his  son.     So  Will  stayed.     He 
would  have  stayed  if  the  man  had  been  a  pauper,  if 
he'd  loved  his  little  boy  like  that.     You  see  it  is  just 
the  way  Will  would  feel  about  his  son.     He  under 
stood.     I    wanted    him    to    stay    too.     I    was    only 
sorry  that,  after  all  the  long  nights  he  had  to  sit  up 
by  the  little  chap's  bed  (for  first  there  was  an  opera 
tion    before    Will    began    his    treatment;    and    Will 
\vouldn't  leave  much  to  the  nurses),  after  the  weary 
nights,  the  doubtful  dawns,  the  long  uncertain  jour 
ney  to  the  day  of  the  crisis,  I  was  only  sorry  that  Will 
couldn't  bring  the  little  boy  he  saved  home  with  him 
(if  he  saved  him)    for  ours  to  keep  and  love.     He 
fought  for  the  life  of  that  child.     He  wanted  it  to 
live  awfully;  and  I,  hundreds  of  miles  away,  would 
wake  often  in  the  night  during  the  long  struggle  — 
at  three,  at  four,  at  seven  when  it  grows  light  —  and 
wonder,  and  hope,  and,  I  suppose  you'd  call  it,  pray. 
It  was  just  before  Christmas  that  my  dread  and 
fear  about  that  little  boy's  life  in   Chicago  became 
intermingled  with  a  thrilling  hope  that  was  very  much 
nearer  home.     My  startling  realisation  came  so  un 
expectedly  to  me  after  all  the  waiting,  so  undreamed, 
so  miraculously  a  gift  of  heaven,  that  I  couldn't  be 
lieve  at  first  that  there  was  any  real  substantial  fact 
about  it.     I  couldn't,   or  I  wouldn't,   I   don't  know 
which.     I  dreaded  disappointment.     But  oh,  the  mere 
possibility  of  such  a  joy  being  mine  at  last,  made  me 
so  happy  that  I  couldn't  help  but  show  a  jubilant  spirit 
in  my  letters.     I  wrote  to  Will  that  somehow,  sud 
denly,  I  felt  that  that  little  boy  out  there  was  going  to 
get  well ;  I'd  been  as  doubtful  as  he  last  week,  but  now, 
unaccountably,  I  was  sure  that  the  dear  little  fellow 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      349 

was  going  to  live  to  grow  up.  I  didn't  tell  Will  why  I 
felt  so  (it  was  such  a  silly  woman's  reason)  but  I 
kept  on  writing  it  over  and  over  again,  every  day,  as 
I  woke  each  morning  with  the  reassurance  that  the 
thing  I  wanted  more  than  anything  in  the  world  was 
coming  true. 

I  never  thought  I  was  superstitious,  but  you  know 
how  over-particular  and  over-careful  you  are  about 
anything  that's  awfully  important.  Your  anxiety 
borders  on  superstition  before  you  know  it,  and  when 
somebody  accuses  you,  you  simply  don't  care,  you're 
so  eager  to  have  everything  propitious.  Well,  I  some 
how  got  to  believing  that  that  child's  life  in  Chicago 
that  Will  was  striving  so  hard  to  save  and  the  life  of 
my  hidden  joy  had  something  to  do  with  each  other. 
The  idea  obsessed  me;  I  couldn't  get  it  out  of  my 
head,  fanatical  and  ridiculous  as  I  knew  a  sensible 
person  would  call  it,  and  I  kept  writing  to  Will  as  if 
that  millionaire's  son  were  mine.  Will  said  it  was  a 
good  thing  that  he  wasn't  a  practising  physician  if  I 
took  his  cases  so  much  to  heart  as  all  that;  but,  just 
the  same,  he  told  me  that  my  letters  did  fill  him  with 
hope  and  courage. 

All  during  this  period,  while  Ruth  was  eating  out 
her  soul  for  Bob,  and  Will  was  eating  out  his  soul  for 
the  little  sick  boy,  and  I  was  eating  out  my  soul  for  a 
gift  I'd  have  died  to  possess  for  a  day,  no  one  would 
have  guessed  from  Ruth's  and  my  pleasant  good- 
mornings,  our  casual  calm  and  undisturbed  conversa 
tions  at  meal-time,  and  Will's  cheerful  paragraphs, 
that  we  were  all  living  through  crises.  Ruth  and  I 
with  our  anxieties  grew  very  near  to  each  other  at 
this  time.  She  was  a  lot  of  comfort  to  me  and  I  tried 


350      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

to  appreciate  the  feelings  of  a  proud  girl  in  love  with 
a  man  who  has  not  spoken.  During  the  evenings  that 
Bob  called  I  sat  up  alone  in  Will's  study,  embroidering 
a  centrepiece  for  the  dining-room  table.  Evening 
after  evening  my  fingers  fairly  ached  to  get  out  the 
rustling  tissue  paper  patterns  that  Madge  had  left. 
But  I  wouldn't  let  myself  —  I  wasn't  going  to  be 
heart-broken  —  I  wouldn't  let  myself  put  a  needle  to 
a  single  bit  of  nainsook. 

It  was  on  Saturday,  January  fifteenth,  at  ten  o'clock 
at  night,  that  Will's  special  delivery  letter  came.  My; 
fingers  trembled  as  they  tore  at  the  envelope.  I 
closed  the  study  door  to  be  alone.  "If  the  little  boyj 
has  died,"  I  said  out  loud,  "  I  mustn't  be  supersti 
tious.  I  simply  mustn't."  But  oh,  he  hadn't  died! 
He  hadn't  died!  Will's  letter  was  one  triumphant 
song  from  beginning  to  end.  The  little  boy  had 
passed  the  crisis ;  he  was  going  to  live ;  and  live  strong 
and  well  and  normal.  The  miracle  had  been  per 
formed  ;  the  serum  had  done  its  magic  part ;  there  had 
been  just  the  response  that  Will  had  dared  to  rely 
on;  everything  had  been  gloriously  successful;  and  he 
was  coming  home  in  five  days! 

I  let  myself  be  just  as  superstitious  then  as  I 
wanted.  I  had  said  if  that  little  sick  boy  lived,  so 
would  my  hopes,  and  I  believed  it.  I  lit  a  candle 
and  went  up  into  the  unfinished  part  of  our  attic  where 
there  is  a  lot  of  old  furniture  packed  away.  It's 
rather  a  spooky  place  in  the  dark,  and  cold  too,  but  I 
didn't  notice  it  to-night.  'Way  over  in  the  corner 
stood  the  little  old-fashioned  cradle  that  belonged  to 
Will's  mother  —  one  of  those  low,  wooden-hooded 
ones  with  rockers,  that  you  can  rock  with  one  foot. 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      351 

I  had  always  planned  to  use  that.  It's  so  quaint  and 
dear  and  old-fashioned.  In  the  cradle  in  a  green 
pasteboard  box  was  a  whole  bundle  of  Will's  baby- 
clothes —  the  queerest,  finest  little  hand-made  muslin 
shirts,  and  dresses  with  a  lot  of  stiff  embroidery  and 
ruffles. 

I  had  no  idea  what  time  it  was  when  later  I  heard 
Ruth  calling  me  from  below. 

"  Lucy,  Lucy !     Are  you  up  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.     "  What  time  is  it?  " 

"Why,  it's  after  midnight!  What  are  you  do 
ing?" 

"  Oh,  looking1  up  some  old  stuff.  I'll  be  right 
down." 

I  met  her  on  the  stairs.  I  felt  guilty.  I  was  afraid 
that  joy  was  written  all  over  my  face.  I  might  as 
well  have  just  left  the  arms  of  a  lover. 

"  Oh,  Ruth,"  I  exclaimed,  "  isn't  it  fine?  That  lit 
tle  boy  in  Chicago  is  going  to  live !  I've  had  a  special 
delivery  from  Will.  Isn't  it  great?  He's  going  to 
get  well ! " 

"  That's  splendid,"  said  Ruth,  and  then,  eyes  spark 
ling,  voice  trembling,  she  exploded,  "  Oh,  Lucy,  Bob 
has  just  gone !  We're  engaged !  " 

I  blew  out  the  candle  for  safety's  sake,  and  put  my 
arms  about  my  sister. 

"  Really,  Ruth  ? "  I  exclaimed,  and  we  sat  down 
side  by  side  on  the  dark  stairs. 

"  He's  cared  for  me  all  along,  all  the  fall  —  all  this 
lime!  Of  course  we  both  couldn't  help  but  know  it! 
But  Bob  —  he's  just  that  honourable  he  wouldn't  say 
a  word  till  he  told  me  all  about  his  circumstances 
and  —  everything.  Circumstances !  Oh,  dear,  I  — ? 


352      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

What  do  you  think  of  Bob,  Lucy?"  she  broke  off. 

"  I've  always  said  that,  next  to  Will,  I'd  rather 

marry  Bob  than  any  man  I've  known,"  I  replied  heart- 

fly-  ' 

"And  does  Will  like  him?"  quivered  Ruth. 

"  Will  calls  Bob  the  salt  of  the  earth.  Everybody 
likes  Bob  Jennings,  Ruth !  " 

"  I  know  they  do.  I  know  it.  I  don't  see  how  I 
ever  got  him.  You  know  all  the  men  in  his  classes 
simply  adore  him!  His  courses  are  awfully  popular. 
He's  going  to  have  juniors  and  seniors  next  year. 
The  President  stopped  Bob  the  other  day  in  the  street 
and  complimented  him  on  his  work.  Oh,  Bob  is  going 
to  go  right  to  the  top!  And  he  isn't  a  bit  spoiled. 
His  dear  old  silver-haired  mother  worships  him  just 
like  everybody  else.  Do  you  know,  Bob  was  afraid 
I  wouldn't  want  her  to  live  with  us  —  she's  the  love 
liest  old  lady  —  of  course  I  do!  And  he  thought,  be 
sides,  I'd  hate  an  apartment  and  one  maid.  But  he 
didn't  know  me.  My  nature  isn't  the  kind  that  re 
quires  '  Things.'  If  it  didn't  have  sympathy  and  un 
derstanding  and  inspiration,  it's  the  kind  that  would 
simply  shrivel  up  and  die.  But  Bob,  he  responds  in 
just  the  right  way,  to  every  side  of  my  temperament. 
It's  wonderful! 

"  Isn't  it  ?  "  I  agreed.  "  Why,  we're  all  happy  to 
night  !  Will  because  of  the  little  boy,  and  you  because 
of  Bob,  and  I  because  — "  I  hesitated  just  a  moment, 
and  then  in  the  pitch-dark  of  the  back  stairs  I  confided 
to  Ruth,  "  because  the  southeast  chamber  has  a  wait 
ing-list." 

"  A  waiting-list?  "  queried  Ruth. 

"  Yes,  I  was  upstairs  when  you  called,  seeing  if 


BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER      353 

Will's  little  old-fashioned  mahogany  cradle  would  do." 

"  Oh,  really !  "  said  Ruth  not  very  much  impressed 
after  all.  "Of  course.  My  room  was  meant  to  be 
the  nursery.  I  remember  now.  Well,  I  suppose 
you're  glad,  and  there'll  be  a  vacancy  all  right  for  some 
one  to  fill  in  June.  We're  going  to  be  married  right 
after  Commencement.  We've  got  it  all  planned. 
Isn't  it  exciting?"  she  exclaimed,  eager  on  the  trail 
of  her  own  happiness.  "  We're  not  going  to  Europe, 
or  anything  grand  like  that.  We're  going  to  begin 
by  saving.  With  my  eight  hundred  a  year  and  Bob's 
salary,  and  a  little  he  has  besides,  our  income  will  be 
about  four  thousand.  We're  going  to  have  a  lovely 
honeymoon !  Bob  likes  the  word  *  honeymoon ' 
though  no  one  uses  it  now.  Bob's  so  funny !  We're 
going  to  camp  out  all  alone  for  a  whole  month  on  a 
little  lake  we  know  about  in  the  Adirondacks  and  I'm 
going  to  cook  while  he  cuts  wood.  Bob  didn't  know 
I  could  cook.  Why,  he  was  awfully  surprised  when 
he  discovered  how  practical  I  am,  and  that  I  trim  all 
my  own  hats  even  now.  Lucy,  don't  you  think  that 
Bob's  awfully  nice-looking?"  she  asked  and  pressed 
my  hand. 

'  Yes  I  do.  I've  always  told  Will  that  Bob  was  the 
, best-looking  man  on  the  faculty,"  I  replied  and  pressed 
;back. 

An  hour  later  we  groped  down  the  stairs  together. 
It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  light  in  the 
study  was  still  going  and  I  went  in  and  turned  it  off. 

At  my  door  Ruth  begged,  "  Come  on  into  my  bed, 
Lucy.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  get  to  sleep  to-night." 

"  All  right.     In  five  minutes,"  I  agreed. 

When  I  went  into  Ruth's  room  she  was  sitting  by 


354      BOBBIE,  GENERAL  MANAGER 

the  window  ready  for  bed,  her  long  hair  braided,  and 
a  knitted  worsted  shawl  wrapped  around  her  white 
shoulders. 

"  Well,  Ruth,  it's  half-past  two,"  I  said. 

"  Bob's  coming  at  nine  o'clock,  before  his  first  recita 
tion,"  remarked  Ruth  dreamily.  "  That's  six  hours, 
isn't  it?" 

"  And  a  half,"  I  smiled. 

"  Oh,  Lucy,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Ruth,  standing  up 
before  me,  "  I'm  terribly  happy !  " 

"  Are  you?     Well,  so  am  I !"  I  replied. 

"  It  just  seems  as  if  I'd  have  to  open  a  window  and 
let  off  steam  somehow !  "  said  Ruth. 

".Well,  let's!"  said  L. 


THE  END 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 


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THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME   PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 


,  The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fp.me  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  th.ough  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  gi  rl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

SHEPHERD   OF    KINGDOM    COME 


THE    LITTLE 


Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King 
dom  Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  ^emi-barbarous;  but  _  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

*'  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
•whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could,  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A~KNIGHT  OF  THE  CUMBERLAND. 

Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon 
shiner's  son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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STORIES    OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 

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THE  HARVESTER 


Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  draws 
his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  with 
his  sure  grip  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knowledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being-  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  to  him  —  there  begins  a  romance, 
troubled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  cf  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
Story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LTMEERLOST. 
Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  cf  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  by 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
Indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificing  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathos 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

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MYRTLE  REED'S  NOVELS 

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LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE. 

A  charming  story  of  a  quaint  corner  of 
New  England  where  bygone  romance  finds  a 
modern  parallel.  The  story  centers  round 
the  coming  of  love  to  the  young  people  on 
the  staff  of  a  newspaper— and  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  quaintest  of  old  fashr 
ioned  love  stories,  *  *  *  a  rare  book,  ex 
quisite  in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful 
humor  and  spontaniety. 

A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN. 

Miss  Myrtle  Reed  may  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  a  story 
in  which  poetry,  charm,  tenderness  and  humor  are  combined  into  a 
clever  and  entertaining  book.  Her  characters  are  delightful  and  she 
always  displays  a  quaint  humor  of  expression  and  a  quiet  feeling  of 
pathos  which  give  a  touch  of  active  realism  to  all  her  writings.  In 
"A  Spinner  in  the  Sun"  she  tells  an  old-fashioned  love  story,  of  a 
veiled  lady  who  lives  in  solitude  and  whose  features  her  neighbors 
have  never  seen.  There  is  a  mystery  at  the  heart  of  the  book  that 
throws  over  it  the  glamour  of  romance. 

THE   MASTER'S   VIOLIN, 

A  love  story  in  a  musical  atmosphere.  A  picturesque,  old  Ger 
man  virtuoso  is  the  reverent  possessor  of  a  genuine  "Cremona."  He 
consents  to  take  for  his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who  proves  to  have 
an  aptitude  for  technique,  but  not  the  soul  of  an  artist.  The  youth 
has  led  the  happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern,  well-to-do  young  Amer 
ican  and  he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past,  express  the  love,  the  passion 
and  the  tragedies  of  life  and  all  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master 
who  has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into  his  life— a 
beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that  his  aunt  had  taken  into  her 
heart  and  home,  and  through  his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns 
the  lessons  that  life  has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakes. 

Founded  on  a  fact  that  all  artists  realize. 

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GROSSET&  DUN  LAP'S 

DRAMATIZED    NOVELS 

THE   KIND  THAT   ARE   MAKING   THEATRICAL   HISTORY 
May  be  had  wherever  books  are  soil        Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap'*  Hat 

'WITHIN  THE  LAW.     By  Bayard  Veiller  &  Marvin  Dana. 
Jiustrated  by  Wm.  Charles  Cooke. 

f      This  is  a  novelization  of  the  immensely  successful  play  which  ran 
jfor  two  years  in  New  York  and  Chicago. 

The  plot  of  this  powerful  novel  is  of  a  young  woman's  revenge 
directed  against  her  employer  who  allowed  her  to  be  sent  to  prison 
for  three  years  on  a  charge  of  theft,  of  which  she  was  innocent. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARY.     By  Robert  Carlton  Brown. 
-illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

v^  This  is  a  narrative  of  a  yoking  and  innocent  country  girl  who  is 
•uddenly  thrown  into  the  very  heart  of  New  York,  "the  land  of  her 
(Breams,  where  she  is  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  temptations  and  dangers. 
The  story  of  Mary  is  being  told  in  moving  pictures  and  played  ia 
theatres  all  over  the  world. 

THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM.      By  David  Belasco. 
Illustrated  by  John  Rae, 

This  is  a  novelization  of  the  popular  play  in  which  David  War, 
field,  as  Old  Peter  Grimm,  scored  such  a  remarkable  success. 

The  story  is  spectacular   and  extremely  pathetic  but  withal, 
powerful,  both  as  a  book  and  as  a  play. 
THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens.7 

This  novel  is  an  intense,  glowing  epic  of  the  great  desert,  sunlit 
barbaric,  with  its  marvelous  atmosphere  of  vastness  and  loneliness. 

It  is  a  book  of  rapturous  beauty,  vivid  in  word  painting.    The  play 
has  been  staged  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 
BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    By  General  Lew  Wallace. 

The  whole  world  has  placed  this  famous  Religious-Historical  Re* 
mance  on  a  height  of  pre-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  tuna 
has  reached.  The  clashing  of  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierce 
atmosphere  of  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination.  A  tre 
mendous  dramatic  success. 

BOUGHT  AlND  PAID  FOR.    By  George  Broadhnrst  and  Arthus 
Hornblow.          Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

A  stupendous  arraignment  of  modern  marriage  which  has  created 

an  interest  on  the  stage  that  is  almost  unparalleled.  The  scenes  ar»laid 

in  New  York,  and  deal  with  conditions  among  both  the  rich  and  poor. 

f  The  interest  of  the  story  turns  on  the  day-by-day  developments 

which  show  the  young  wife  the  price  she  has  paid. ^ 

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GROSSET  &    DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED  NOVELS 

Original,  sincere  and  courageous — often  amusing — the 
kind  that  are  making  theatrical  history. 

MADAME  X.     By  Alexandra  Bisson  and  J.  W.  McCon« 
aughy.      Illustrated    with    scenes    from    the    play. 
A  beautiful  Parisienne  became  an  outcast  because  her  hus 
band  would  not  forgive  an  error  of  her  youth.    Her  love  for 
her  son  is  the  great  final  influence  in  her  career.    A  tremen 
dous  dramatic  success. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

An  unconventional  English  woman  and  an  inscrutable 
stranger  meet  and  love  in  an  oasis  of  the  Sahara.  Staged 
this  season  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  INDIA.    By  Lew.  Wallace. 

A  glowing  romance  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  presenting 
with  extraordinary  power  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  and 
lighting  its  tragedy  with  the  warm  underglow  of  an  Oriental 
romance.  As  a  play  it  is  a  great  dramatic  spectacle. 

TESS  OF   THE    STORM    COUNTRY.     By  Grace 
Miller  White.     Illust.  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
A  girl  from  the  dregs  of  society,  loves  a  young  Cornell  Uni 
versity  student,  and  it  works  startling  changes  in  her  life  and 
the  lives  of  those  about  her.    The  dramatic  version  is  one  of 
the  sensations  of  the  season. 

YOUNG    WALLINGFORD.     By  George    Randolph 
Chester.     Illust.  by  F.  R.  Gruger  and  Henry  Raleigh. 

A  series  of  clever  s\yindles  conducted  by  a  cheerful  young 
man,  each  of  which  is  just  on  the  safe  side  of  a  State's  prison 
offence.    As  "  Get- Rich-Quick  Wallingford,"  it  is  probably  ( 
the  most  amusing  expose  of  money  manipulation  ever  seeu 
Dn  the  stage. 

THE  INTRUSION   OF  JIMMY.    By  P.  G.  Wode-' 

house.     Illustrations  by  Will  Grefe. 
Social  and  club  life  in  London  and  New  York,  an  amateur 
burglary  adventure  and  a  love  story.    Dramatized  under  the 
title  of  "A  Gentleman  of   Leisure,"  it  furnishes  hours  of 
laughter  to  the  play-goers. 

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Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Illustrated 

CHIP,  OP'  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  wherein  the  love  affairs  cf  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told.  Chip's 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  blue 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.  A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Cow-puncher. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys.  Foremost  amongst 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  many  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  the  plains,  describing  a  gay  party  of  Eas 
terners  who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  rough  homeli 
ness  of  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  the  effusive  Sir  Redmond,  become  living, 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS 

Here  are  everyday,  genuine  cowboys,  just  as  they  really  exist. 
Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright,  jolly,  ^entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  page. 
THE   LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  portrayal  of  the  experience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  cowboys  of  the  West,  in  search  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud"  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  while  following 
"the  lure  of  the  dim.  trails"  but  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
welcome,  is  that  cf  love. 

THE   LONESOME  TRAIL 

"\Veary_"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con 
ventional  city  life  pdls  on  him.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush, 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  return.  _  A  wholesome 
love  story, 

THE  LONG  SHADOW 

A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  withrthe  free,  outdoor, 
life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  rapidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game'of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  love  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

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THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Hiller 

The  romance  of  the  son  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "graft"  and  cornea 
into  &Li  .omance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED    TRAIL.  With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Mich 
igan  pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Elack  Hilis  has  a  hard  time  of  it-  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under   the     title   of  "The   Call  of    the   North." 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  \rhere  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  ami 
won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC  FOREST.    A  Modern  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
their  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact. 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminin* 
devotion,  and  masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  *;he  Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
,  THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
j)est  American  novels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  no 
other  book  has  done  in  recent  years. 

THE    MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stout 
ship  "Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut 
able.  In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  most  exciting  voyage 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

— ..  it 

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RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE,    By  Zane  Grey. 
Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

In  this  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago,  we 
are  permitted  to  see  the  unscrupulous  methods  employed  by  the  in 
visible  hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  the  will  of  those  refus 
ing  to  conform  to  its  rule. 

FRIAR  TUCK,    By  Robert  Alexander  Wason. 
Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 

Happy  Hawkins  tells  us,  in  his  humorous  way,  how  Friar  Tuck 
lived  among  the  Cowboys,  how  he  adjusted  their  quarrels  and  love 
affairs  and  how  he  fought  with  them  and  for  them  when  occasion 
required. 

THE    SKY   PILOT.    By  Ralph   Connor. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead. 

There  is  no  novel,  dealing:  with  the  rough  existence  of  cowboys, 
so  charming  in  the  telling,  abounding  as  it  does  with  the  freshest  and 
the  truest  pathos. 

THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIL,    By  Geraldine  Bonner. 
Colored  frontispiece  by  John  Rae. 

The  book  relates  the  adventures  of  a  party  on  its  overland  pil 
grimage,  and  the  birth  and  growth  of  the  absorbing  love  of  two  strong 
men  for  a  charming  heroine. 

THE  BOSS   OF  WIND  RIVER,    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  Tenney  Johnson. 

This  is  a  strong,  virile  novel  with  the  lumber  industry  for  its  cen 
tral  theme  and  a  love  story  full  of  interest  as  a  sort  of  subplot 

A  PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP,    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

A  story  of  Canadian  prairies  in  which  the  hero  is  stirred,  through 
the  influence  of  his  love  for  a  woman,  to  settle  down  to  the  heroic 
business  of  pioneer  farming. 

JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS,    By  Harriet  T.  Comstock, 

Illustrated  by  John  Cassel. 

A  story  of  the  deep  woods  that  shows  the  power  of  love  at  work 
among  its  primitive  dwellers.  It  is  a  tensely  moving  study  of  the 
human  heart  ard  its  aspirations  that  unfolds  itself  through  thrilling 
situations  and  dramatic  developments. 

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